You 'old the drill for awhile and turn it, while I sling th' sledge.

Then you take th' 'ammer and Lor' 'ave mercy on my 'ands if you miss." Fairchild obeyed.

They began the drilling of the first indentation into the six-inch vein which lay before them.

Hour after hour they worked, changing positions, sending hole after hole into the narrow discoloration which showed their only prospect of returns for the investments which they had put into the mine.

Then, as the afternoon grew late, Harry disappeared far down the drift to return with a handful of greasy, candle-like things, wrapped in waxed paper.
"I knew that dynamite of yours could n't be shipped in time, so I bought a little up 'ere," he explained, as he cut one of the sticks in two with a pocketknife and laid the pieces to one side.