And Harry was beside him every step of the way.
A day's work, the booming charges, and they returned to the stope to find that the vein had neither lessened nor grown greater.

Another day--and one after that.

The vein remained the same, and the two men turned to mucking that they might fill their ore car with the proceeds of the various blasts, haul it to the surface by the laborious, slow process of the man-power elevator, then return once more to their drilling, begrudging every minute that they were forced to give to the other work of tearing away the muck and refuse that they might gain the necessary room to follow the vein.
The days grew to a week, and a week to a fortnight.

Once a truck made its slow way up the tortuous road, chortled away with a load of ore, returned again and took the remainder from the old, half-rotted ore bins, to the Sampler, there to be laid aside while more valuable ore was crushed and sifted for its assays, and readier money taken in.

The Blue Poppy had nothing in its favor.