Gilpin observer., 1910-06-16
Copyright. by ]. B. Lippincott Coz
CHAPTER I.

The westering sun was casting
lengthy shadows among the gaunt
pines and sturdy aspens along the
steep upward slope of a certain wild
canyon in the Nevada Sierras.
Five hundred feet below the dry
floor of the gulch, which here widened
to a narrow valley, was filled from
wall to wall with motley huddle Of
rough cabins, jigsaw cottages, a
glazing red-brick opera house, hotel,
and bank all in one, and pair of
clapboarded. whitewashed churches.
Upon the sultry and drowsy air of
a summer afternoon there arose the
confused hum and the hoarse murmur
of strenuous industry, above which,
like the footsteps of the animated
stone statue in Don JUAN" the in
sistent note of the busy stamps" at
work night and day. three shifts" in
each "a hours. dominated all other
sounds.
This was the little mining town of
Meleen, named in honor of it's found
er, who was likewise the discoverer.
manipulation. and chief owner of the
rich Peacock lode. which gave employ
ment to 300 men and Melted over a
million year for its stockholders.
Rough and ready, ignorant ana
shrewd, was old Andrew Meleen.
Originally a Welsh miner in Cardiff
and later in the Pennsylvania coal
fields. he by turns had been volunteer
soldier. pioneer. prospector. and final
ly many times a millionaire, after
weary years of fortune-chasing up and
down the gold and silver country of
the great west
For the crude affairs of this typical
raw western, camp, with its bizarre ad-
mixture of civilization and savagery,
we have only a passing interest in
that it is the starting point of the
story in hand. Our present and most
wildly human concern is with the
creator of all this industry and po-
tential wealth-and he lay a-dying.
Far up the eastern hillside COM
handing the town. whence one could
almost fancy he was looking over the
next divide to where the flaming sun
was setting amid cloudy pillows in
the wide Pacific miles beyond, on
extent, stood curious and rambling
wooden structure. in triple part log
cabin. hunting ranch. and modern
country house.
This unique huddle of divers styles
of pioneer architecture really repre-
scented as many different periods in
the fortunes of its eccentric owner.
The rough, Embarked logs of the orig
inal single-roomed cabin which
formed prominent wing or angle
marked the poor-prospector stage;
then. with more prosperous times.
came an addition framed by a wander
ing Yankee carpenter and sheathed
with boards of red wood, now beauti-
fully weathered to rich mahogany
hue; finally. as If to mark the ultimate
rise to affiuence of the occupant, a
twostory structure had been added,
shingled as to walls and roof, while
upon three sides a covered veranda
wide enough for fashionable cotillon,
approached by generous steps and
peaked porch, gave comfortable as
surance of cool shade and a constant
breeze shifting with the sun.
Around and above porch and cabin
there clambered festoons of grape
vines and wild creepers, the dark.
green leaves lending a deeper tinge to
the background of cedar and redwood
posts and walls.
From this eyrie the old man who
was it's chief occupant could easily
toss lump of his own shining ore
on the roofs of the little town be-
meath; viewed by day. the smoke of
its furnaces went winding away in
long spirals and ribbons of vapor; at
night. the spurts of colored flame
from the chimneys of retort house
and smelter lit up the opposite sides
of the canyon in fitful flashes of
murky red, or paled to an orange glow
under the wan light of the moon.
The solitary dweller on the hillside
never wearied of the changing pic
ture. 1t was his; he had called into
being the town and its throbbing in.
dustries: he loved 1t with the pas
sionate, yearning love of wifeless
and childless old man. For him the
cities of the coast-Los Angeles or
San Francisco, Portland or Seattle
possessed few charms. They only
served to bank his constantly increas.
ing millions. The rough little town.
with its amazing monthly output of
gold and silver and copper, stood to
him in place Of wife and child: the
queer old ranch overlooking It all
was his real home-his pride, his pas
sion, his delight
And now the time was come when
b. lao oil ma honna In