But the word had spread, and others were there before him.
Already a wide path showed up Kentucky Gulch.

Already fifteen or twenty miners were assembled about the opening of the Blue Poppy tunnel, awaiting permission to enter, the usual rush upon a lucky mine to view its riches.

Behind him, Fairchild could see others coming from Ohadi to take a look at the new strike, and his heart bounded with happiness tinged with sorrow.

Harry was not there to enjoy it all; Harry was gone, and in spite of his every effort, Fairchild had failed to find him.
All that morning they thronged down the shaft of the Blue Poppy.

The old method of locomotion grew too slow; willing hands repaired the hoist and sent volunteers for a gasoline engine to run it, while in the meantime officials of curiosity labored on the broken old ladder that once had encompassed the distance from the bottom of the shaft to the top, rehabilitating it to such an extent that it might be used again.
The drift was crowded with persons bearing candles and carbides.