Arizona republican., 1892-09-21

the true SILVER, trust God, is still there.
Three miles up the creek, mile above
the very last cabin; the last mile or two
solid snow, soft and impossible by day
because Of the sun, but hard as steel by
night, and here we laid down our loads
at daylight and tool; shelter in a brush
shed built by Alva Boles. We fried our
bacon and flapjacks and ate like wolves.
On the third day, discouraged and
disguised, for not u color as yet had we
found, we took the tools and climbed up
out Of the canyon to u warm mountain
side that lay to the sun. 1t was pleasant
here. Some tall, wild flowers had shot
through the brown carpet of pine quilts
by the edge of foaming, tumbling
stream, made muddy from a slide on the
steep hill above. My "pard" did not
like work, but he was always making it
appear that he was moving mountains.
After basking in the sun bit he took
the pick and pushed on up, and soon had
the powders tumbling and rumbling
down the angry stream, while l sat
there and pulled some of the prettiest
flowers ever seen. 1t was like picking
the patterns out of brown Brussels car
pet; they were so soft and fine and spir-
itual. They had such delicate, fresh
tinted little stems, and the new blue
blossoms were as blue as the eyes of
baby. But they went to sleep, closed
their eyes forever, almost as soon rs |
pulled them up out of the warm brown
carpet-they were so new and tender.
| heard wild shout, and springing
up | saw two arms tossed in the air and
little bare, black head thrown back
till the face looked straight up to the
center of the blue tent of heaven. The
big little man walked toward me ma
jestically down the mountain side, tip
toeing, on eggs! All. but he was tall!
We-he had struck it.
Going back with him we found the
water clear here, flashing down oyer
curiously green and brown and white
floor of bare bedrock, and here, right
through this, where his pick had struck,
cleaned and shot and flashed glitter
ing seam of solid metal.
If you could have seen those swinging,
sweeping arms! That windmill that
overthrow Don Quixote was nothing in
its velocity and persistence, was
made to comprehend that the vein ran
here and that it ran there; was bound
less and was bottomless; that the noun
tain was in fact one solid mass of virgin
gold! Yet he said not word-only
those arms.
We got piece Of it out, more than
pound, and almost pure. | battered off
a piece of crag, rods up the hill, and
that, too, was heavy, almost solid.
We sat late by the fire that night after
supper, and it was later still wien he
spoke for the first time, and then he
spoke almost spasmodically: ITO buy
California first, all California, includ-
ing this mountain of solid gold. That's
it, you see, before they find out that
gold is so plenty; then buy Oregon, on
time; then come and get the gold; buy
Ireland, poor Ireland! BY gosh! Then
buy England; go right to Queen Victoria
and buy her crown and her throne ON
contract; good lawyer, so she can't back
out; then come back and get the gold"
He was silent for a time and then
with his face lifted far above me as if
searching for the north star, he said half
savagely:
"Say, straight over the mountains to
Yreka tonight on the crust, Flanagan
not to know a word, nor Campbell;
straight to Yreka; got enough already
to bind contracts, buy California and
contract with the Oregonians before to-
morrow night" Another pause. then
again, Say, look here; might
kill you and keep the whole thing. 1t
is all my find anyhow"
And bless me if he didn't look as if he |
might Anyhow the campfire was smok-
ing on my side and l got up and leaned !
against post. Then he got up, too, and
said, Come on, let's GO"
followed the desperate little rascal, |
keeping behind him all the way to
Yreka, where we arrived just as Great !
house & Slicer opened their bank. !
Breathless, and with face still lifted far
above me, the boy who was going to buy |
queen victoria throne ana crown ana /
have her throw in Ireland, strobe up to |
where Charley Slicer, now in Oakland.
was buying dust and laid the nuggets
before his eyes. Pure stuff"
Young Slicer turned it over and over,
took up glass. looked at it carelessly |
and then, handing it back as he turned to |.
attend to some one else, said, soto voce,
"Yes, pretty pure-copper.
got job as cook on Greenhorn |
next day, and poor Hi, after getting
himself into pecks Of trouble and mix
ing himself up with Inc and my affairs,
died at Red Bluff, with his face still |
lifted to the stars, am told.-Joaquin
Miller in Elmira Telegram.
Mime. de GenIIs' Childhood.
l., n y - 1.