The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-12-01

because Of the sun, but hard as steel By
night, and here we laid down our loads
at daylight and took shelter in a brush
shed built by Alva Boles. We fried our
bacon and dapjacks and ate like wolves.
On the third day, discouraged and
disguised, for not color as yet had we
found, we took the tools and climbed up
out of the canyon to warm mountain
side that lay to the sun. Itwas 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 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 | 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 as
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 eggsI All, but he was tall!
We-he had struck it.
Going back with him we found the
water clear here, flashing down over a
curiously green and brown and white
floor of bare bedrock, ans 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. I 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 a
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 when he
spoke for the first time, and then he
spoke almost spasmodically: "To 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 tho 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 time and then
with his face lifted fur above me as if |
searching for the north star, lie said half
savagely:
"Say, straight over the mountains to
Yreka tonight on the crust, Flanagan
rot to know a word. nor Campbell;
straight to Yreka; got enough already
to pind contracts, buy California and
cob tract with the Oregonians before to-
morrow nightw Another pause, then
suddenly again, "Say, look here; Knight
kill you and keep the whole thing. 1t
is ali my find anyhow"
L,1ase -,,a bo w. 1o<,1, h.
might. Anyhow the campfire was smok-
ing On my side and I got up and leaned
against post. Then he got up, too, and
said, "Come on, let's CO."
I 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's throne and crown and
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 be 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 me and my affairs,
died at Red Bluff, with his face still
lifted to the stars, am told.--JoaqMn
Miller in Elmira Telegram.