The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1883-07-26
We stand in row. allowing sufficient

Each chunk of red dirt dislodged by the
pick falls into the running water, and
if it be hard and will not readily dissolve |
it must be broken up by pick or shovel
to keep the stream clear and unimpeded.
The large powders are picked out by
hand and thrown behind us-not in dis
ordered fashion, either. Room in the
cut is scarce and must be economical,
so the ever-accumulating bowlder pile
is '.faced up" with neat wall, laid
without mortar, but with some care and
skill. The bedrock is under our feet.
We are undermining the bank and keep
ing the stream turned in as much as
possible to the part undermined. This
streak just above the ledge and for
few inches in the crevices of the ledge
is our ..pay streak" where ages on ages
ago some stream ran, depositing, as all
streams do, the heavier gravel on the
bottom and the lighter above. Oc-
casionally the pick strikes firmly em.
bedded bowlder hard and square on its
point, in such a way as to send the
vibration like shock along the iron, up
the handle and into ones arm and
"crazy-bone.h Our bank of dirt is
about eight feet in height At first,
near the rivers edge, there was only
mold on very light alluvial sand. This
was readily washed off and paid 81 OF
So per day. A little farther back we
struck the edge of the red gravel streak.
This for time paid better. Farther
still came the deposit of light sandy
gravel, and lastly came in the accursed
''hard-pan."
THE HARD PAN.
But "hard-pan' is our foe; 'hard-
PAM is the essence of brickbats. Its
consistency is about that of chalk. 1t
seems the finest kind of sand cemented
and pressed together. And it doesn't
hold s'color'' of gold. The work on
the ground-sluice goes On hour after
hour. Pick and shovel and scrape,
scrape and shovel and pick, the watet
meantime tumbling and roaring over
the bank and making it difficult to hear
each others voices. The sun climbs
higher and gets hotter. The water-pail
is frequently visited. The backs of the
gray shirts are wet with perspiration.
In an easy, companionable claim, where
the partners are all good fellows and on
good terms, and not too insane in the
matter of getting an enormous quantity
of dirt through the sluices each day,
there may be more or less brief suspen-
sions from the work, when all hands
lean on their shovels and talk politics,
or horse, or last nights poker game, or
have a short service of tobacco smoke,
with the usual solemn preliminaries of
cutting the plug and filling pipes. But
close -fisted lot, the misery goes on with
out cessation.
MINERS DINNER.
1t is near II o'clock. There stands in
a cool corner of the claim and carefully
shielded from any stray, flying pebble,
a black bottle. 1t is nearly full of
whisky. 1t is most welcome at this
hour Poison it may be, but a draught
from the tin cup brightens up and makes
all things new. The sunshine is more
cheerful The pick descends with in
creased force and host of new day
dreams start into being. 1t is high noon.
The sun is over our heads and the shad-
ows are at their shortest length. One
of our number trudges wearily up to the
reservoir to shut off the water. So soon
as its flow lessons we trudge off in wet
overalls or heavy rubbers to our respec-
tive cabins. We are now ground-sluic-
ing at or about the year 1860, when
miners generally had abandoned "cab-
ining" in squads and each man kept
house by himself. Cause-general in
compatibility of temper, temperament,
disposition and habit. The sober miner
found it disagreeable to live permanent
ly with the spreeing miner, and the
miner nice in his domestic economy and
particular about his food soon became
tired of companion who never aired
his blanket and didn't care whether his
bread was light or heavy, sweet OF sour.
Trudging to our cabins, we pick up the
dried twigs in our path. These are to
kindle the dinner fire. Dinner is very
much like breakfast, beef, or bacon,
bread, tea, dried apple sauce. The boots
are kicked off and thumped into cor
ner. The temperature is up to that
notch that induces perspiratlon without
any exertion at all, and the ugly little
stove III, keS it hotter still. We sit down
to the noon meal in a melting condition
and rise from it in the same state. Din
ner is eaten, the incoming is over, pick,
shovel, scrape, pry, toss back powders
and prop up sluices slipped from their
supports. Between and g. o'clock
snowy-white cloud rises over a distant
peak to the eastward. 1t seems like
great bank of snow against the blue SKY
and the longer we look at it the farther
we seem to peer into the translucent,
clear-white depths. 1t rises over that
peak at almost the same hour every af-
ternoon and is almost of the same shape.
1t is the condensed vapor of the snow
melting on the higher Sierra SUBMITS
eighty-six miles distant. 1t is imposing
in its silent imperceptible rising, its
wonderful whiteness, its majesty, its
distance. 1t seems fit bed of snowy
splendor for fairies or some sort of
ethereal being to bask and revel in. 1t
seems to be looking down in scorn, halt
in pity at us four weary, miserable
bit of mother earth, muddy, wet and
feebly squirming in and about this bank
of dirt.
THE DAYS WORK DONE.
At o'clock there are longer pauses
in our labors. There is more leaning
on shovels and more frequent glances at
our timepiece, the sun, as he sinks in
the western heavens. The shadow of |
the hill opposite creeps slowly down its |
side. 1t is a cool. welcome shadow. The |
strongest worker secretly welcomes it. |
Though he is ''horse of man" bis |
muscles also feel the effects of the long |
days labor. 1t is more in his strong !
will than his body which keeps him |
swinging the pick. We are in duty |
bound to work till o'clock Every |
body is more or less tired at o'clock, |
but it is not the capacity of the body for |
labor that fixes the time. 1t is custom,
stupid custom. The gauge is the limit |
of physical strength, not for the weak
est, but the strongest. The great, brawny-
armed, big -boned Hercules of our COM
pany doesn't feel it much. He may |
walk three miles after supper to the bar
store, play cards and drink whisky till |
9 O'Clock and then walk back again and
be up fresh for work next morning by |
$50 O'Clock. This is in. 1860 In 1870 |
he showed it however and in the marks |