The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-05-05

/ X
blow out at the close of the river mining
season. With all their hard work what
| independent. times were those after all!
| True, claims were uncertain as to yield;
| hopes of making fortunes had been given
over. But SO long as $3.50 or Sc pickings
remained on the banks men were COM
| paratively their own masters There was
none of the memorable demand of bust
| ness consequent on situation and employ
ment in the great city, where, sick or
well, the toilers must HE with machine
like regularity at the early morning hour
to their posts of labor. If the Red
Mountaineer didn't '.feel like work" in
the morning he didn't work. If he pre-
ferred to commence digging and washing
at 10 in the morning instead of Z, who
should prevent him? If, after the morn
ing labor, he desired a siesta till in the
afternoon, it was his to take.
Of what nature could give there was
much at the Bar to make pleasant mans
stay on earth, save great deal of cash.
We enjoyed mild climate-no long,
hard winters to provide against: a soil
that would raise almost any vegetable, a
necessity or luxury, with very little
labor; grapes or figs, apples or potatoes;
land to be had for the asking; water for
irrigation accessible on every hand;
plenty of pasture room; no crowding. A
quarter of section of such soil and
climate within forty miles of New York
city would be worth millions. Contrast
such land with the bleak hills about
Boston, where half the year is spent In a
struggle to provide for the other half.
Yet we were all anxious to get away.
Our heaven was not at Red Mountain.
Fortunes could not be digged there. We
spent time and strength in a scramble
for few ounces of yellow metal. while
in the spring time the wales and hillsides
they had the greatest rewards for our
picks and shovels. But none listened.
We groveled in the mud and stones of
the oft worked bank. Yearly it respond
ed less and less to our labors. One by
one the ''old timers" left.
The boarding house Of Dutch Bill at
the farther end of the Bar long stood
empty, and the meek eyed and subtle
Chinaman stole from its sides board after
board; the sides skinned off, they took
joist after joist from the framework.
None ever saw them so doing. Thus
silently and mysteriously, like melting
snowbank, the great ramshackle board
ing house disappeared, until naught was
left save the chimney. And that also
vanished brick by brick. All of which
material entered into the composition
and construction Of that irregularly |
built, smoke tanned conglomerate of |
Chinese huts clustered near the Keen |
Fam castle.
"Old Grizzly" McFarlane went away. |
So did Bloody Bill. So the Bars popula-
ton dwindled. Fewer travellers, dotlike,
were seen climbing the steep trail DER
Red mountain. Miller, the Chinese Camp |
news agent, who, with mail bags we'll |
filled with the New York papers, had
for years cantered from Red mountain |
to Morgan's Bar, emptying his sack as
he went at the rate of fifty and twenty
five cents per sheet, paid the Bar his
last visit and closed out the newspaper
business there forever. Then the county
abolished it as an election
precinct, and its name no longer figured
in the returns. No more after the vote
was polled and the result known did the
active and ambitious partisan mount his
horse and gallop over the mountain to
Sonora, the county seat, twenty miles
away, to deliver the official count, signed,
sealed and attested by the local Red
mountain election inspectors. Finally
The Bar dwindled to Thompson, Keen
Fam and his Monaghan band. Then
Thompson left. Keen Fam grieved at
osing his friend and protector. He
came on the eve Of departure to the dis
nantled store. Tears were in his eyes,
lie presented Thompson with basket of
ga and silver half dollar, and babe
lin farewell in incoherent and intrans-
atable words of lamenting polyglot
English. PRENTICE MILFORD.