The record-union., 1892-12-16
ANOTHER MANS CLAIM.
Written for the REcoRD-UNIoN by William
Caswell Russeu1

George Armstrong and Joe Millright
We're among the excited throng of gold
hunters that made the wild, savage rush
to Gold Run in the fall of 1919. But their
luck was bad and they failed to reap a
harvest in that season Of abundance. and
when the bitter season came on their
stock of gold was small, and they We're
forced to go into winter quarters with
barely enough of the necessaries of life to
keep them until spring.
They lived alone in their little cabin at
the end of the long, narrow, struggling
street of Gold Run, and watched the big,
white flakes of snow settling down upon
the earth until a great, white mantle was
drawn over all the mountains. Then
they suffered from cold and hunger, but
they never grew disheartened, for their
hearts were strong and they spoke words
OF comfort and encouragement to one an
other, and laughed lightly at adversely
through all the bitter days of that cruel
winter.
When spring came and the snow had
melted and the mountain streams were
transformed into dashing, fOaming tor
rents, they started outacross the hills and
canyons in search of gold. The suffer
and as they walked along the rocky trails
they sang scraps Of old tavorite songs of
their boyhood days, and talked of the
misiortunes OF the past, ana hoped for
better luck in the future.
When evening came they had travelled
far. Worn, weary and disheartened they
stopped TO rest IN deep ravine where the
hills were high and steep on both sides.
They were discouraged and their spirits
were broken.
There is no use trying any longer"
Joe MilIright said to his partner.
INC use, Joe, no use," he answered,
like man who had lost all hope.
In the silence that followed they bowed
their heads and pondered over their luck
less lot. Suddenly George Armstrong
caught his companion by the arm ana
pointed to Il flat below.
"Do you see that, Joe? There is luck
there, and that is our claim"
Luck, George, luck. Ha ha, ha! The
kind, perhaps, we have had all along''
81 am sure we will find gold there, Joe.
We must prospect the place"
1T is useless, George. 1t will only be
the same old story. Come, night is APP
preaching and we must return TO camp"
But George Armstrong was obstinate,
and SO to please him Joe Millright waited
and they went down and set to work to
prospect the place. 1t took but a short
I l.
cleared away down to the bedrock, and
thousands ofyellow nuggets were brought
to view. George Armstrong and Joe
Millright, the unlucky prospectors, had
at last struck pay dirt'-more than their
weight in pure gold.
1t was growing late. The moon rose
over the mountains. and, by it's pale light.
they staked their claim and then fol-
lowed the trail back across the hills and
canyons to their cabin to await the COM
ing Of day to carry away the treasure.
That night they built great, towering
castles in the air far above the tumble
down shanties of sleepy Gold Run, and
the sound of their mirth lasted far into
the night. The few struggling miners
who chatted together in the grog-shops,
and tried hard to forget their poverty and
bad luck, entered into a spirited argu-
ment among themselves as to the cause
of so much hilarity among the two
''p3rds'' in the little cabin at the end Of
the street.
Then they slept; and in their broken
SlumberS they tossed reStlesSly upon
their bed and dreamed OF gold, gold, gold!
And when morning came, and the first
signs of rosy-tinted dawn appeared above
the shadowing hills, they started back to
the claim still dreaming of gold.
AS they hurried along, their minds
flashing with many happy thoughts OF
DIlAHI IullllGg tIICJ AOl 9ON, 4Ol Il IiOLlltUl.
the shining nuggets of yellow gold, and
their thoughts went back TO their far
away boyhood home. George Armstrong
was thinking of his sweetheart, a fair,
blue-eyed girl who had shed many tears
at their parting. Joe MIilright was
thinking of her, too, for she was his only
sister, and he smiled, as he walked along,
thinking how happy she would be when
they returned.
Then the long spell of silence was
broken:
"We are rich now, Jo."
Eyes, George, very rich"
"And we can return to our dear old
home in Virginia tomorrow
Yes, Tomorrow or the day after"
''Then we will all be happy again."
''Yes, yes, very happy"
"And Louise and l Will be married"
''Yes, George, my sister loves you"
''And L love"
These were his last words! They were
walking close 10 the edge of a precipice,
and the devil appeared, masquerading
in his most enticing disguise, ana sowed
the seed of hell and damnation in the
heart of Joe Millright.
Like a flash he drew knife from his
belt, and raising it on high, with a pow
erful swing of his arm, he thrust the
long. glittering blade to the hilt into the
| breast Of his partner.
e
slight culver of his form-another cruel
thrust and still another and then, with
mighty oath, he hurled his bleeding form
over the precipice.
A murderous tiend, with shattered
nerves ana guilty conscience, he hast
ened on his way to the claim eager to
grasp it's wealth of gold and quickly es-
cape from the mines.
Poor erring fool of the devil! His
greedy eyes were never TO look upon
that pile of gold again. Worn and tired
and weary III mind and body, he reached
the claim at last only to be confronted bv
a cool, determined man.
There had been mistake, but it was
discovered too late. George Armstrong
and Joe Millright had discovered gold on
another mans claim.
Pale and tremb bling, and with a slow.
uncertain step, he started back to the
spot where he had struck the fatal blow.
AS he proceeded on his way retribution
overlook him and he cried like heart
broken child. Then he ran. Faster and
faster he increased his pace. PERHAPS
the knife did not touch poor Georges
heart, or he might have caught upon the
rocks" he muttered between his gasDs
for breath.
But this faint ray of hope revived him
only for a short time, for, alas! he remem-
bered now how he had plunged the knife
time after time into his partners breast.
and how he had thrown his limp form
over the precipice and stood listening to
it rattling over the rocks until it struck
the bottom with dull thud.
Keeling along like drunken man ne
reached the edge Of the precipice, and
bending forward looked down at the
mangled form below. He uttered no
word, gave no sign, but his pale, hag-
gard face was awful to look upon.
His bloodshot eyes CLEANED with
strange light. He bent forward farther
and farther, his trembling hands clinging