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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Why don't you quit that dead work and do a little chloriding yourself? Pound out a little gold that's the way to get a stake!" Old Hassayamp spat the words out impatiently, but Rimrock seemed hardly to hear. "Nope," he said, "no pocket-mining for me. There's copper there, millions of tons of it. I'll make my winning yet." "Huh!" grunted Hassayamp, and Rimrock came out of his trance.
He literally picked up a precarious living for himself and an aged mother by "chloriding the dumps," that is to say, the miners permitted him to search the heaps of waste rock for such pieces of "pay ore" as had been overlooked; and these he sacked up and sold at the Syndicate Mill.
"I've got a ten-foot hole to sink on twenty different claims, no powder, and nothing but Mexicans for help. But I sure turned up some good ore she gets richer the deeper you go." "Any gold?" enquired Hassayamp hopefully. "Yes, but pocketty. I leave all that chloriding to the Mexicans while I do my discovery work. They've got some picked rock on the dump."
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