Los Angeles herald., 1891-11-29
PROSPECTING IN SAN ANTONIO
CANYON.
DEDICATED TO Col. pUNKELBEnaER.

DEDICATED TO Col. pUNKELBEsGER.l
BY vERITAs.
Probably there is nothing so exciting
and that carries with it so much fasci-
nation as prospecting for gold. All de-
privations, hardships and all the incon-
veniences attendant upon tramp over
mountains and through gulches count
as nothing if only even "color" is
struck. Even the most level headed
among men generally seem to lose all
control of their thinking faculties, and
their judgment peters out like the blaze
from rocket.
''If we are only lucky" they exclaim,
"there will be millions in it!
One of the latest and perhaps the
most extravagant prospecting tours
came to my knowledge few days ago.
A man who has been washing a placer
claim near Old Baldy came to Los Ange-
les for the purpose of inducing capital
lists to invest their money in that well
known region-a region that has been
prospected and talked about more than
any other locality in Southern Califor-
MIA. He brought with him little bag oi
nuggets and small bottle of fine gold,
and when he displayed them for in.
spection OF several brokers, the effect
was electrical. One broker particularly
who has had considerable experience in
mining, both in quartz and placer. and
sunk a small fortune in the past few
years in developing quartz mines, was
peculiarly affected, and for two days
afterwards pored over maps and located
claims richer than anything yet dis
covered in that mystical land-the San
Antonio cafion.
The broker Il would mention his
name if dared, for he is of Herculean
build and | care not to incur his ire)
grew more and more excited and rest
less, his eyes cleaning with luster
that can be compared only with man
who had for long years trudged through
mountain pass to high peaks, rising
above the clouds, and at last found the
long-sought-for treasure hidden between
rocks and sand.
And so restless did our broker friend
become that, notwithstanding hall OF
November had passed into oblivion,
and snow was already falling in the upper
air, while rain descended in torrents in
the lower regions, he was not to be turned
from his tour OF discovery. Accordingly
he turned up one morning in suitable
attire for his trip, with his maps neatly
folded. and the trails and spurs thereon
marked with a red pencil Who would
dare doubt his ultimate success, for was
not everything as plain as could be de-
sired. with piles OF bright gold nuggets
waiting the bold broker prospector? p
all on paper.
On Thursday. November 10Th, 'at II
M, he boarded the Santa Fe train, and
in due time landed at Claremont, the
Athens of Pomona valley, where he
spent the night, and bright and early
the next morning, in company with a
friend, he started for the caiion. Up
and up they climb, and still higher, un-
til the Hogs back is reached. ''Higher
and higher yet," sung out the broker
i'll tones loud and strong, which echoed
over the mountains and through canons
and creeks, until it came back
like a faint whisper from some
distant spirit ever beckoning on
and on, and higher and higher. And
with nerves strung to their highest ten
sion, and hope ever swelling, and hearts
rapidly beating in the glorious and al
most certain expectation of the rich
treasure up and beyond, they trudged
on, with no thought of cold, paying no
heed to the fast approaching night, fol-
lowing the echo, higher, higher, until
their footsteps were suddenly arrested !;
for in front was caflon deep, dark and
impossible. Still that echo, clear, soft
and sweet, like the tones of that dear
old Spanish love song, "La Golondrina"
ever Turing on.
The weary prospectors looked at each
other in blank amazement and stimuli
taneously they cried, "We've lost the
trail" Dauntless still, for the fire of
gold was brightly burning, they wan
dered hither and thither, and at last the
glad shout from the intrepid broker,
"This way me go!" And the echo
family called, "Higher. higher"
Again they scrambled up and on un-
til they reached the top of Old Baldy.
In their excitement no account was
taken of time, and night was coming on
apace and the clouds, black and heavy,
like pail settled upon them. And the
echo tantalizing in its sweetness, "On,
on" was heard, but the prospectors
were nearly exhausted. And then it
was they discovered that they had no
blankets to shelter them from the COM
ing storm, and no wood with which to
make fire. No word was spoken, but
began the descent to tim
ber line. which was reached in safety.
There a fire was made, in the warm
ashes of which they lay down to spend
the night. Long were the hours, and
sleep there was none, for little flakes OF
snow fell upon them, and they knew not
what moment storm would break in
all it's fury. Not word was spoken,
Ior each was wrapped in his own dismal
thoughts. And with every breath OF
wind would come the echo, "On, on,
md higher, higher" until the broker,
n passionate outburst of agony, ex-
claimed: sob, that echo it will drive
ne mad.'
At last daylight came, and the poor,
and discouraged prospectors
the mountains, and in the
fternoon were found aimlessly wander
ng about Claremont, when Pete Flem-
ng, the water sprite of the Sycamore
Water Development company, took pity
n them and put them on board the
rain for Los Angeles.
The broker appeared in his office the
ext morning much crestfallen. All of
lis fellow brokers refrained from ques
ioning him, out of respect and the good |
viii they bear him. At last he said:
L lost the trail, but shall try it
gain"
And the echo, "on, on, and higher,