Five tons and the night was not yet over! Five tons, and the vein had not yet shown its other side! Back to work they went now, six of the men drilling, Fairchild and the other four mucking out the refuse, hauling it up the shaft, and then turning to the ore that they might get it to the old, rotting bins and into position for loading as soon as the owner of the Sampler could be notified in the morning and the trucks could fight their way through the snowdrifts of Kentucky Gulch to the mine for loading.

Again through the hours the drills bit into the rock walls, while the ore car clattered along the tram line and while the creaking of the block and tackle at the shaft seemed endless.

In three days, approximately forty tons of ore must come out of that mine,--and work must not cease.
Morning, and in spite of the sleep-laden eyes, the heavy aching in his head, the tired drooping of the shoulders, Fairchild tramped to the boarding house to notify Mother Howard and ask for news of Harry.
There had been none.

Then he went on, to wait by the door of the Sampler until Bittson, the owner, should appear, and drag him away up the hill, even before he could open up for the morning.
"There it is!" he exclaimed, as he led him to the entrance of the chamber.

"There it is; take all you want of it and assay it!" Bittson went forward into the cross-cut, where the men were drilling even at new holes, and examined the vein.