Alf Drew was smoking, too, somewhere, but he had taken his offensive cigarettes to some place of concealment.
Harry anxiously watched the course of the sun, while Tom kept his gaze, most of the time, near the furnace.
"Come on, Harry!" called Tom at last.

"We'd rake out the crucibles.
My, but I hope the buttons are going to be worth weighing." A withering blast of hot air reached the young engineers as the oven door of the portable assay furnace was thrown open.

The crucibles were raked out and set in the air to cool.
"Would fanning the crucibles with my hat do any good ?" asked Hazelton eagerly.
"Some," yawned Tom, "if you're impatient." Reade strolled off under the trees, whistling softly to himself.
Jim Ferrers smoked a little faster, the only sign he gave of the anxiety that was consuming him.

Harry frequently sprang to his feet, walked up and down rapidly, then sat down again.

Two or three times Hazelton burned his fingers, testing to see whether the crucibles were cool enough to handle.