Truth. [volume] (Salt Lake City, Utah) 1901-1908, 1906-06-30

had been dimly heralded on the wings
OF rumor. They got there just in time,
too. For hardly had they made pre-
liminary examination ami closed the
deal when big black auto, carrying
the fortunes of Charles NJ Schwab,
the steel magnate, whirred into the lit
tie camp from the California side-too
late.
Just before midnight of June Is
Campbell whizzed through the main
street of Goldfield and halted the auto
in front of the Sullivan office. Camp
bell is a mining engineer in charge OF
the Sullivan properties in Manhattan.
The Intelligence of the strike had
reached him first, and he had come
down from Manhattan, seventy miles,
In two hours. Sullivan was still in
his office, presiding over a meeting of
directors. Two words from Campbell
were enough, and, Selling box of
cigars and his big automobile leather
coat, he stepped into the machine. A
short stop was made at the garage 20
take on extra tires and gasoline, and
then the big machine, an eighty-horse-
power Pope Toledo, owned by Sulli-
van, buzzed out into the open country.
That nights run was uneventful.
The road was good 1t ran along a
plateau that dropped gradually two
thousand feet in eighty miles. The
two men leaned forward in the ton
neau, their teeth crunching upon their
cigars. At intervals with short ex-
CARNATIONS they urged the chauffeur
on. The latter, a long, thin fellow, all
bumped up, as if eternally cutting his
way through recalcitrant atmo-
sphere, drove like demon. The ma
chine buzzed; at times the iron flaps
covering the engine raised with the
friction of the air, and she seemed to
fly on extended wings. Above, the
stars blazed-the Great Dipper over
head, Orion stalking with flaming
scabbard across the horizon in front.
On each side, distorted cacti lurked in
the shadow like huge tarantulas.
| AT o'clock, crossing the Amargosa
river, little stream of bitter water
two inches wide, one of the rear tires
blew up. The chauffeur stopped.
lacked the machine up and put on a
new one, and they went on. Thew
passed through Beatty like lightning.
amidst bowling of startled dogs. AT
O'Clock they were in Rhyolite. They
mad made eighty miles of mountainous
desert in three hours.
There they met Chafey, the Young
Fellow who had flashed the first news
OF the strike. He informed them that
ne mad sent on mule team with pro-
visions to Stove Pipe Spring, on the
edge of Death valley. A half hours
stop was made. Breakfast was eaten
A new supply of gasoline was taken
aboard, and each man was given
south African canvas bag full of wa
ter. Several coal oil cans full of wa
ter were also dashed to the shelf be.
hlnd, for they were entering the coun-
try OF death and desolation.
They started off again with the
green sky of dawn behind them and
whirred down dry wash through a
canyon OF red walls. The enfevered
breath of the still invisible valley
struck their faces, as if she were hiss.
ing warning to them. After awhile
the canyon walls opened, and Death
valley was below them-a huge bowl
Its bottom leprous with some loatb.
some-hued sediment. They whirred
on, down wash of black flint rock.
with each plunge of the machine thew
entered layer of air hotter than the |
preceding, till they painted as at the
nhlsh OF mile run. They rolled on. |
and the mountains roca On oil ,;,a.