Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1894-11-09
A RACE FOR LIFE.

has been Brattleboro summer resident for three
seasons past The story, told IN the first person.
relates the actual experience of personal friend
of Mr.. Richardson in the year named, the only
changes being in the names of persons and
places. 1t was published by the Illustrated
American Of Nov. 10, in its prize series of Per
sonal Experiences, and was complimented by
the editor of that journal a notably good bit of
concise, "snappy" English.l
Late in the autumn of 1888, |, with
three classmates of the School of Mines,
invested in the lease of some mining prop.
erty in Colorado. We were young and in
experienced in business matters, so that
the financial part of the venture was rather
unskillfully managed. Almost all the
money we could raise was put into the
necessary plant.
Before the snow stopped operations we
had on the heap many tons of valuable ore.
The depth of the snow, however, prevented
its shipment to Pueblo for smelling, and
we were obliged to lay off the miners, owing
them at the time over a months wages.
l made hurried trip to New York to
see if additional funds could be raised by
two of the partners living in that city, but
| was unsuccessful.
On my return reached the little village
of Mater, some four thousand feet below
the mine, where l was told by Reynolds,
the other partner, that there were rumblings
of an approaching storm among the idle
miners-about thirty in number.
We determined that we would go to the
mine and talk over the state of affairs with
the men. Unfortunately, it had been
rumored that had brought back with me
large sum of money which had deposit
ed in the local bank.
Soon after reaching our snow-covered
cabin and making a fire-for the tempera-
ture was twenty degrees below zero-the
door was thrust open and three sullen-look-
ing men, who had evidently been drinking
heavily, stalked in.
They wanted to know-as committee
of the miners-what we proposed to do
about paying the wages due them.
We were armed. And we knew that
they were.
replied that l had been unsuccessful in
my journey East and had returned to ask
them to wait for the opening of the spring
so that the ore could be realized on. The
spokesman interrupted angrily:
"You lie! We amt no fools. We know
you've got five thousand dollars in the bank
at Mater, and we propose to have our
money and have it now"
| said l would willingly sign a blank
check and allow them to fill in any amount
they wished and let them see if they could
get it cashed.
The chairman of the committee called
me to the little window of the cabin and
pointing to a tree in the foreground said
chambers, do you see that ar tree thar ?''
| nodded.
"Well," he answered, "if at the end of
IL, IL
to pay us, we'll swing you from that lowest
limb. And you don't leave this cabin,
nutheT. One of us and his gun will be
outside of that door all the time. Write
this telegram: If you don't send three
thousand dollars in three days, they hang
me- Sign it,"
l protested that knew no one to send it
to; but concluded it would be wise to tenn
pOrize and do as they wished, and wrote
and signed the message, directing it to my
brother in New York.
They then left, placing one of their num-
Der on guard. An hour passed by and the
almost perishing man came in, saying that
he would stay inside and watch there.
Reynolds and |. after long delberation,
concluded to offer our individual notes to
the men, payable at thirty days. We were
escorted to the engine house, and after some
further parleyng the men consented to ac-
cept and to escort us under a guard of two
to the village below to get the needed
blanks.
How well ! remember our walk down the
mountain side, over the snow trail, in In
dian tile-Reynolds and | ahead and the
two guards behind. The moon was shin
ing at the full, and from the distance, add
ing strange, uncanny feeling to our al
ready overwrought nerves, came the cries
of the puma-the mountain lion.
1t was nine o'clock when we reached
Mater and obtained the notes from the
banker We had taken a light supper of
unwarmed canned meat only and were
quite exhausted from the cold on our walk
down, Retiring to the little office we
owned in the village, We made out our
promises to pay and gave them to the
guard, who, Notwithstanding, maintained
his careful watch.
While sitting there, half frozen and dis
cussng our position, two of the miners
came in. They were the Malcolm brothers,
both men of superior education and refine
ment. They said to us in a low tone,
fearing to be overheard by the watcher out
side:
Boys, although you have given these
notes, you will still be prisoners. We
have faith in you and believe you are
square; but this is no place for you, and
you ought to leave this camp and as quick
ly as possible. The fellows mean what
they say and are bad men. They will stop
at nothing to get their money in fact, they
will think no more of hanging you than of
smoking their evening pipes. Now, we
will do anything in our power to serve you;
and there are four more of us of the same
mind. Command usr'
We told them how deeply we appreciated
their loyalty to us and asked what they
and we could do so that we might leave
the camp. They replied:
The train leaves the station at seven
O'Clock, mile and half below here, as
you know. We will bring four horses here
at Gas. Be sure to be ready to start inn
mediately. Get up quietly at six and put
on only your mining clothes. Do not think
OF washing or do anything to attract the
attention of the guard"
l said l would see that they and their
mates were paid in full as soon as reached
New York; and we promised to be ready
for them in the morning.
Little did we sleep that night. Before
ourselves on tine cots in the rear
office | looked out on the peaceful, moonlit |
scene, and there, pacing up and down, was
the faithful sentinel-doing his best to
keep warm. The sentries relieved each /
other every half hour. And so the night |