Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1905-05-05

climbed on my back, 1abbed BIS knees
into my shoulder blades, and grabbed
me by the jaws. He gave my head
| quick wrench. | saw Thousand sky.
rockets; something cracked and be-
came senseless. When | awoke he
had my neck in splints, and was jab-
bering Spanish to Rogers. He said
he was the only white man in the
world who could set a broken neck,
and guess he was. He had learned
the trick from an Indian medicine
man. He charged me twenty-five dol
lars. and told me to lie quiet for
week Jenny Rogers nursed me, and
of course / fell in love with her. /
was in their cabin, and near by Mr..
Rogers had located some valuable
claims.
Here is the most remarkable part
of this story" Blake went on. when
| was able to dress | picked up that
cursed Mexican stirrup to see how the
leather happened to break. 1t was
steel affair, and | noticed some bright
yellow spots in the crevices. Blamed
if it wasn't gold, | didn't say word,
but when | was strong enough | went
back and climbed slowly down the
place where my horse fell. 1t was
easy to follow it. Near the edge of
the cliff | found an outcropping of
gold-bearing ore, and the mark of
where the metal part of my stirrup
had scratched it, | staked out
claim and sold it to Jenny's father for
a hundred and twenty-five thousand
dollars. He's made two millions out
of it. I made love to JENNY, and /
think she would have had me, but
went to San Francisco and dropped
the hundred and twenty-five thousand
on the mining exchange. l went back
and asked Jenny to wait until | made
another fortune. She said she'd think
about it. guess she did. A year
later she married a man who is now a
United States Senator. So | broke
my neck, lost my fortune and my
sweetheart all in less than year."
"And what have you now?"
"This mountain chateau" replied |
Blake. with lordly sweep OF his arm,
"and hole in the ground back of it.
Then have a fine view of the valley, |
a good appetite, a slumbering con-
science, and-and Dog, here, who
never upbraids me for being seven
kinds of a fool
John told the story of the dying
sailor and his map, and read an ex-
tract from Peter Burts letter Then
he produced the map, and they spread
it out on the table and examined it
by the light of the lantern.
81 followed the trail all right" ex-
planned John, until the storm set in,
and then had to feel my way. Be-
fore lost my bearings l was about
two miles from the point where this
sailor claims to have found gold. |
kept near the edge of the cliff until
could go no further, and then curled
up behind that rock in the hope that
the storm would cease"
Blake studied the map with grow
ing interest and excitement. With
splinter from a log as a marker he
traced the trail.
Il know every foot of it," he ex-
resting the point of the
splinter on round spot on the map.
Here is Fishers Lake. You came
hat far by stage. Here is the creek
which you follow for seven miles I'M
il you come to the old Wormley trail
You take that to the cliffs, and go
long the cliffs until you cross four
brooks and come to the fifth one. You
we're within a hundred yards of that
fifth stream, John. Now let's see the
icy to this thing"
John handed him the letter
From the east face of the square
ock, on the north bank of the brook,
t the edge of the cliff" read Blake
know the rock well. Let's see.
Thence east along the bank of the
rock in a straight line four hundred
nd twenty-five feet, and then north
right angles, sixty-seyen feet to the
ase of the tallest pine in the neigh
orhood.'" 7
Blake rushed to the door, forgetful
the storm. to verify his suspicious.
lie pushed it open an inch, but
did bank of snow blocked the way.
Where do you suppose the base of
lat pine tree ISL" he demanded.
Tithout waiting for reply he found
Ratchet and tapped the clay floor
ntil he located a spot which gave a
eadened sound. Then he chopped
way few inches of packed dirt and
INK the blade into solid substance.
There's the base of the big pine :
ee described by your dead sailor.
i'd III bet my life on it," he shouted
nd here are sections of the tree,7 he
pointing to the logs which
rmed the foundation of the cabin. F
m dead sure of it, John. It's about