Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1882-03-08

eIcCt uhucI thci DuIuch. Aho pihSo
and spruces We're heavily snow laden
and their boughs dropped rs though
depressed at the presence of winter.
Occasionally limb broke with a sharp
riAe-likc report. Gayly the child be-
hind me talked Of grouse he had seen
sitting in spruce tree, and then, child
like, he boosted of great yellow mug
get his father had found few days be-
fore. He assured me / should feast my
eyes on this golden wealth. I asked
him if he had ever seen bear, a bear
with long sharp teeth and great claws.
The scorn with which he treated my
question was magnificent. "Bears who
cares for bears" he exclaimed, and the
fact all animals we're afraid Of men was
vigorously impressed on me. Kindly he
volunteered to show me bears nest,
and did so--a cavity in a mass Of
granite rocks behind the lair.
Arrived at the placer claim, | saw a
gaunt limber,jawed Pike standing in
the doorway of log hut. His face
was pale and beardless. His long
black hair hung below his shoulders.
The bone handle of a heavy knife pro-
truded from the rear pocket of his
overalls. Seeing me, he walked brisk
ly through the snow to meet me. His
gray eyes lighted up warmly as l held
out my hand and introduced myself
Entering the house, l dropped my
blankets on the floor and told my host
of the deer l had shot and where l
hung him, and said he could have the
meat if he would 60 after it. He ex-
cused himself for leaving me with the
remark that wildcats might drag the
deer down from the tree if he did not
act promptly, and went after the meat
at once. The two little boys were talk
ing together by the open fireplace, and
l heard the words BLANKETS" "meat,"
many times repeated. Soon the young
est child came to me. placed his dirty
little hand on my leg, and, looking me
in the face, said Brother Will says
you have meat in your blankets. am
hungry. Won't you cook some for
me?' "Of course I WILL" ] replied,
and I did so.
Toward nightfall my host returned.
That night, as we sat around the blaz-
ing fire, he told me of the time when
the deserted village was full of life.
Three saloons kept open day and night.
Relays of dealers relieved each other at
the faro tables, and the game was al
ways active. The dense pine forest
resounded with the reports of giant
powder exploding as shafts were sunk.
All was excitement. Every day men
galloped into town to record the finding
of new leads. Every night little pack
ages of soiled paper were unfolded on
whisky-stained counters, and the gold
from prospect pans" of gravel were
shown. Almost daily, men came in
from distant gulches with gold dust.
On Saturdays the miners came down
from the frozen slopes of the Snowy
Range with sacks of samples of their
finds, and had the leads recorded.
Day after day the money these miners
brought into the district shrank in their
pockets. AS the months rolled by, the
players that once crowded around the
faro tables in their eagerness to copper
the queen and bet the ace open dropped
away from the game. The miners no
longer smoked twenty-five cent cigars.
The gamblers left the doomed camp.
The livery stable closed. The silence
of the dying camp was no longer broken
by the. yells of gold miners on spree.
The reports of pistols and clash of
knives no longer resounded in the
smoke-laden air Of the saloons. Day
by day the impression grew among the
miners that the leads and placers were
worthless. At short intervals parties
of two and three left the camp to
search for some mythical placer of fab
ulous richness, discovered by "49ers,"
and abandoned in their greed for Cal
ifornia gold.
The gulch with prospect hole dug
on the south bank at the foot Of
blasted pine, and opposite great
boulder of red granite, was assiduously
searched for-but never found. The
village school closed. The teacher went
prospecting. Then came the great news
of the discovery Of carbonates at Lead
vile. The camp was abandoned in
single night. The knowledge that their
placers were lean and their leads leaner
had prepared them for stampede.
My host bore the name of Dirty
Peter--not that he deserved it. Ten
derby he spoke Of his having to remain
in the abandoned district on account of
his motherless children. They had no
relatives excepting himself. He could
not bear to part with them to strangers.
The country was exceedingly healthy |
and the water pure. . Their wants were
few, and he could support them with
tho erold he obtained from his lean