San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-03-07

l.
whatever they are, life would be tame
affair without them. What's that that
western poet fellow said?-'Whether a
man be hell bent or heaven bent, some
whar in his tracks thar will be found
the print Of woman's feet That's it,
isn't it? And your poet has brought the
matter down to bed rock"
The talk had drifted far away from
Ned Anthony and his money. The
Texan brought it back with the resolute
jerk of another downright question. He
was man who stuck to his point and
was impatient of frivolous depression.
He liked reverting to primal cause, and
considered exhaustive investigation of
the career of successful competitors in
the race of Mammon likely to be rich in
hints for the guidance of those less well
placed in the running.
"Oh, dog womenr' he said. They're
well enough; but don't let's bother about
'em now. want some of you fellows
just to tell me how this man Anthony
got his start"
The miner picked up his cards and
looked then over deliberately. Then he
winked across at his partner to call his
wandering attention to the fact that
slack" was on top to be played for
When this matter had been settled to his
satisfaction he turned back to the Texan
and gave the desired information in two
words, "Prairie dogs"
A deep abstraction fell upon the man
of kline and his pipe went out unnoticed.
He had been hearing Of the wonderful
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 "a 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; cor
was it Just newspaper canard?''
"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 so damnation
hard some years back. Nobody amt in
innate with that story, nor got the run
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, "Hear that? 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 (high 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 l
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.
"After 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 well. 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 a grip in
the jaw as most bulldogs going, and he
MORALLY hates to leave hold of 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.
st 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