Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-08-10


Prairie Dog mine for the last four years.
Even down in the cattle country the
mine was known and talked about. Its
phenomenal richness, the queer story of
its discovery, the unprecedented luck OF
everything and everybody connected
with it, had made exciting variety in the
"cow" conversation around the root fire
in many q ranchman's hut, and TONY
Ned, the hero OF the find, was regarded
with respectful admiration which is a
concomitant of success.
"Was there any truth in the leper
story?" he reused himself to inquire; "or
was it just newspaper canardT'
well" deliberated the miner, craft
lily saving his partners ten and Glow
for himself at the same stroke, 81 guess
there was grain or two Of truth in the
dirt the papers PANIED at 30 damnation
hard some years back. Nobody amt in
of the back door on details, except one
man, and that's Tony Ned as he was
called before he made his lump. Ned
amt likely to crafty the morbid han
kering after sensation that agitates the
journalistic breast any more than suits
him neither" He paused to murmur to
his companions, clear that2 Good words,
them-ablebodied fellows" and then
proceeded: mo, Ned don't give himself
away much. Most of them stories were
written up in the Offices by the men that
know all about it, as usual. Still, they
couldn't miss getting a grain or SO Of
metal out Of all that grit"
"And those were"- suggested the
Texan eagerly.
"That Tony Ned Qhigh to me, if you
please went prospecting in the Sierra
Madre country five or six years back
and CHANGED on the biggest find any fell
low has made since I've been diggin; a
laundering find, as good as the Com
stock any day. The way the story runs,
as the miners tell it, is just this, and !
reckon it's as true bill as any, because
Ned never contradicts it." The miner,
having secured the pot, laid aside his
hand and turned to face the room:
"Ned was prospecting down there away,
and he had run Of bad luck at first,
black enough to set the devil swearing.
CATER digging around for month or
so, and getting nothing for it but pain
in the back, Ned saddled up his broncho
and came down out of the hill, swearing
he was going to quit sending his bucket
down a dry we'll. He pulled right and
he pulled left for awhile before he could
get himself to agree all round to quit
ting, for Tony Ned has as good grip in
the jaw as most bulldogs going, and he
mortally hates to leave hold of a thing
he's once set his teeth in. He had a
sorter feeling, too, that there was ore
about, if only he could strike it. How
ever, he quit, and took out across the
plains into Arizona, and the more he
went forward the more he hankered
after going back, and the more sure he
was that the Madres had secret they
were hiding from him. At last he left
the thing to chance, as they say miners
and sailors are fond of doing.
at was the morning of the second day,
and good square sixty miles lay behind
him. He was cooking his rasher and
coffee and cursing his luck, and his
broncho, having eaten up all the grass
in his lariat circle, was looking on and
listening. Two little prairie dogs sat on
mound close by enjoying the early sun
shine, but the rest of the village were
asleep. Presently the little beggars fell
out about something and set to for a
regular rough and tumble. One was
bigger than the other, and queer notion
struck Ned as he sat and watched 'em
He named the big dog Sense and the
little one he called Instinct If Sense
whips, he said to himself, I'll push or
and try my luck in Arizona. But if In
stinct wins I'm going back to the Ma
dres.' He eyed 'em close, and presently
he got up and walked over to his saddle
the little dog had got the big dog dow
and fairly rolled him down the mound.
The Virginian removed his arms from
the back Of the chair and seated him
self in it. The story probably interested
him as much as it did the other men
The initial steps Of success are Away
interesting when success has BEEF
achieved; it is only the chronicle o
failure that~is tedious.
"When he got back to the hills" pro
ceeded the narrator, che went on a gco'
bit farther north before striking int
them again. He nosed around for al
he was worth; but for about q week baa
luck held on like burr; then the It'd
: turned. He was driving the broncho u
,, steep, ugly looking spur, on a tracl
that cat could hardly scramble over
when all at once the beast put his blame
little hoof on a rolling stone, and befor
Ned could make decent grab for hi
= tail, turned heels over head and role
a like log down into the canyon.
= wasn't healthy looking place to try tn
D 'follow-my-leader' dodge, 30 Ned nose
J, about for better. After awhile b
r came upon what looked to be an oil
a trail, and he followed it down into tn
d canyon, where he found the bronche
with his baggage smashed up, but othe1
d wise all right. Tough little beasts
v bronchos.
r "Half way of the canyon there was a
o open space, with trees like a little parl
It pines and redwoods, and near the Gel
a ter there was deep, snow fed poo
> Against the wall of the cliff at one sid
d was a rough cabin built of redwoo
t. slabs, and inside of it, at the back, ws
,e the mouth of the Prairie Dog mine"
The speaker paused and filed his pip
- "a fhou0h he had nothing more to sa