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Updated: May 12, 2025
It seemed never to be far enough away. And, after all, it was only some rock pounded for assay. So much for the lower room. We scraped some of the rougher dirt off the floor, and left it. That was our sitting-room and kitchen, though there was nothing to sit upon but the table, and no provision for a fire except a hole in the roof of the room above, which had once contained the chimney of a stove.
"It's out of a little bunch of dust I just turned in at the assay office." "Thank you." She stood waiting while he folded his duplicate and put it away, but he did not rise to go, and after a moment, she went back to her chair by the scarlet azalea.
"He states he has reached his limit and we won't get another chance," Jim remarked. Jake pondered and then resumed: "The thing's puzzling. I can't see why Baumstein's fixed on buying a claim that nobody else wants, but you can reckon it a sure snap for him when he makes a deal. There's the puzzle! The ore is pretty good, but that's all. We were kind of disappointed by the assay.
The other examined the specimens and weighed them in his hand. "If you've got much rock like that, it's a pretty good claim." "Do you reckon the stuff would come up to assay?" Jake asked, giving him the analyst's report. The prospector looked at him rather hard. "Come up to assay? If the bulk's like these specimens, it ought to pan out better than the figures show."
It was the extraordinary fineness of the gold saved by amalgamation as against my tests of the ore by fire assay that put me on the track of a most indefensible loss. The Howell-White Furnace.
THE TRAP SET. On Saturday morning John B. Winters sent verbal word to the Gold Hill Assay Office that he desired to see me at the Yellow Jacket office.
"The Colonel said it wasn't scratched. And didn't you steal that piece of quartz from Virginia? Oh, you gave it back, eh? Well, how did it assay? I know you found something pretty good!" "How could I give it back, if I'd had it assayed?" asked Wiley with compelling calm. "Well what did you come back for?" demanded the Widow, triumphantly. "You must have figured to win somewhere."
He had defied the enemy, though he had been in his power. Not one of them would have done what Tom Dixon, in his panic terror, had allowed himself to do. But they were men, all of them men of that stark courage that clings to self-respect rather than to life. This youth had met the acid test, and had failed in the assay.
"Dern it all, Pete, I 'm blamed if I know; leastwise, I ain't got no sure prove-up. I tell ye thet girl's just about the toughest piece o' rock I ever had any special call to assay. I think first I got her good an' proper, an' then she drops out all of a sudden, an' I lose the lead. It's mighty aggravating let me tell ye. Ye see it's this way. "Rescue her from whut, Jack?
The sun rose in a clear sky; the glistening peaks of the Sangre de Christo shone white against a turquoise blue; clumps of snow melted from the branches of the pines and made hollows in the smooth banks of white where they fell. I turned to Buchan. He was tossing restlessly in his bunk. "I would hate to be Amos if he gives Carson an assay of values from that jug handle.
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