Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1892-03-06

DOOy connected Win H. udu mduo CA
citing variety in the "cow" CONVERSE
ton around the root fire in many ranch
maR's hut, and TONY Ned" the hero
Of the find, was regarded with respect
full admiration which is q concomitant
Of success.
"Was there any truth in the leper
story?" he reused himself to inquire; "or
was 10 Just a newspaper canard?"
"Wen," deliberated the miner, craft
lily saving his partners ten and slow"
for himself at the same stroke, 81 guess
there was a 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 10 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-ablebodie fellows" and
then proceeded: mo, Ned don't give
himself away much. Most OF them
stories were written up in the offices by
men that know all about it, as usual.
Still. they couldn't miss getting grain
or so Of metal out Of all that grit"
"And those were"- suggested the
Texan eagerly.
THAT Tony Ned (high to me, II you
pleased went prospecting in the Sierra
Madre country five or six years back
ana CHANGED on the biggest find any fel-
low has made since I've been diggin; a
thunnering 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 n run Of bad luck at first,
black enough 10 set the devil swearing.
after digging around for month or
so, and getting nothing for ii but pain
in the back, Ned SaddIed up his broncho
and came down out OF the hill, swearing
he was going 10 quit sending his bucket
down a dry well. He pulled right and
he pulled left for while before he could
get himself to agree all around 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 thing
he's once set his teeth in. He had a
Sorter feeling, too, that there was ore
about, II 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 af
ter going back, and the more sure he
was that the Madres had q secret they
were hiding from him. At last he left
the thing 10 chance, as they say miners
an / sailors are fond Of doing.
ut was the morning Of the second
day, and good square sixty miles lay
behind him. He was cooking his raSher
and coffee and cursing mis- luck, and his
bronchO, having eaten up all the grass
in his lariat circle, was looking on and
listening. Two little praire dogs sat on
a 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 a queer no.
ton 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, Tn
push on and try my luck in Arizona.
But il Instinct wins I'm going back to
the Madres.' He eyed 'em close, and
presently he got up and walked over 10
his saddle; the little dog got the big dog
down and fairly rolled him down the
mound.
The Virginian removed his arms from
the back of the chair and seated him
self in il. The story probably interested
him as much as 1t did the other men.
The initial steps Of success are always
interesting when success has been
achieved; it is only the chronicle OF
failure that is tedious.
"When he got back to the hills" pro-
ceeded the narrator, she went on q good
bit further north before striking into
them again. He nOSed around for all
he was worth: but for about week bad
luck held on like burr! then the tide
turned. He was driving the broncho up
steep, ugly looking spur, on track
that a cat could hardly scramble over,
when all at once the beast put his
blamed little hoof on arolling stone, and
before Ned could make decent grab for
his tail, turned heels over head and
rolled like a log down into the canyon.
Ii wasn't healthy looking place TO try
the fOllOw-my-leader dodge, so Ned
nosed about for better. After awhile
he came upon what looked TO be an old
trail, and he followed it down into the
canyon, where he found the broncho,
with his baggage smashed up, but other
wise all right Tough little beasts,
bronchos.
"Half way Of the canyon there was an
open space, with trees like little park,
pines and redwoodS, and near the CEN
ter, there was a deep, snow fed pool.
Against the wall Of the cliff at one side
was a rough cabin built Of redwood
slabs, and inside Of it, at the back, was
the mouth of the Prairie Dog mine"
The speaker paused and filed his pipe,
as though he had nothing more to say
on the subject. A silence fell, during
which the sounds Of the street stole into
the room, the roll Of vehicles, the stir
and hustle Of traffic and the voices Of
the street gsmins QuarrelliDg in the gut
ter.
what became of that leper?" 1t was
the Texans voice that put the question.
There the story grows misty. No
body knew anything about the leper
until after the find, except few trap
pers and Indians. Some said he was an
Apache and others that he was Mexi-
can priest. Nobody knows for certain
what he was, except perhaps Ned An
thOny, and he won't talk about it. The
leper was dead, he told them all, and
buried under a rosewood tree close by
the pool. He'd made the grave himself
and put the poor wretch in it; uncom-