Tom busied himself with building the best fire that he could under the chamber of the assaying furnace, while Harry Hazelton, rolling up his sleeves, began to demonstrate his muscle by pulverizing little piles of ore in a hand-mill.
"Be careful not to mix the lots, Harry," advised Tom, glancing over from his station by the furnace.
"Thanks for the caution," smiled Hazelton.

"But I have just enough intelligence left to understand the value of knowing from what section of the slope each particular lot of rock comes." Dinner was eaten in silence.

For one thing the campers were ravenously hungry.

In the second place, though each kept as quiet as possible, he was deep in the thrall of the fever to dig up hidden gold.
The meal was nearly over when Alf Drew came into camp.
"Are you leaving anything to eat ?" he asked.
"Maybe," said Jim Ferrers grimly, "but you were left to wash the breakfast dishes, and you haven't done it yet.

Now, you'll wash the breakfast things, and then the dinner things, before you get even a cold bite to eat." Alf didn't protest.