Now that he was back safe in camp he felt much ashamed of himself for having run away and left the camp unwatched.
As soon as he had eaten his dinner Tom Reade went back to the assay furnace to improve the fire.
"Now, Harry, we'll get the powdered stuff ready to roast," Reade remarked.

"We've a lot of it to rush through this afternoon." "And we want to be sure to finish it at least two hours before dark, too," Larry nodded.

"If we decide to file a claim Jim ought to be riding for Dugout City by dark, ready to file the papers the first thing in the morning." "And Jim can bring back half a dozen men to help us sink the first shaft," proposed Tom.
"That's where I feel like a fool," muttered Ferrers.

"I haven't a blessed dollar to put in as capital." "We'll take your honesty for a good deal in the way of capital, Jim," Tom hinted cheerfully.
"Harry, you might get out the transit, the tape, markers and other things.

If we stake out a claim we'll do it so accurately that there can be no fight, afterward, as to the real boundaries of our claim." "What shall we call the claim ?" inquired Hazelton, as he came back with the surveying outfit.
"Suppose we wait until the assay is done, and find out whether the claim is worth anything better than a bad name," laughed Tom.
The crucibles were in the furnace now, and a hot flame going.
Jim Ferrers sat by, puffing reflectively at his pipe as he squatted on the ground nearby.