White Pine news weekly mining review. [volume] (East Ely, Nev.) 1910-1920, 1911-09-17

has been down the country and dis
covered a mine bigger and richer
than the Norcross-(Noreross vas in
bonanza just then)-but he cannot
read nor write. It's always the way.
They come here so ID dense in
their ignorance that they could not
read Jesus if it was printed on White
Pine mountain In letters bigger than
the coast range. but they get rich,
every ID mothers son of them"
There was Dan De guile, given to
writing wonderful descriptions and
calling all the adjeetives to his aid.
There was X. NJ. Daggett, monumen-
tai in his portryals of his degenerate
fellow men. There was the prop
r%ietor, Jos. T. Goodman, always level
headed and the perfect master of the
force of words. Outside these were
shrewd critics, and when Mark wrote
a good thing they were wont to pat
him on the back, tell him that 1t was
good and invite him to drink. 1t was
such an atmosphere as Mark had
never been in before; such as he
never dreamed was possible. Then
there was another class. Jack Perry
was a saloonkeeper and foreman of
IN of the fire engines. He had been
an old-time New York pressman on
the Tribune or Herald, had been in
the prize ring more than once, and
was an all-round accomplished, gen.
tlemanly tough, If such a term may
be allowed.
Mark wrote a story one day, the
climax of which was at Perry's ex-
pense. He received many compli-
ments that day and several drinks On
the strength of the story. 1t was in
the spring of the year. Virginia
City was not paved; the quartz
wagons had cut the road to pieces
and the mud was about a foot deep.
Just as night came down Mark had
business up town and on his way
passed an engine house. When
opposite to ii a giant of a man came
out, picked him up and tossed him
into the middle of the street. Mark
stuck where the mud was deep. then
rolled over and yelled police" as he
crawled out of the mire.
why, is that you, Mark" said
Perry. Had known it was you /
would not have done that for the
world. thought you were a burg
lar" Mark never wrote any more
stories at Jacks expense.
Under the eye of Goodman Mark
kept improving. He once wrote
something which so incensed n OF
the staff of the Chronicle that he
challenged Mark to fight a duel.
Mark took the challenge to Stevie
Gillis. a proofreader on the Enter
prise.
ellis had come to California from
Mississippi in the late ffties. He was
a red-hot Mississippian; he looked
just as a game rooster would If he
was bigger. His first venture was
to go to Oregon with Long Primmer
Hall and started a secession news
paper. ] believe he never issued but
one edition. and how ellis got back
to San Francisco | do not know. He
was asked, years later, how long his
paper lasted. Not long," he re.
piled. but at one time ! thought il
was going to outlast me-"
When Mark told him what was on.
ellis asked, Can you shoot
Never tried it," said Mark. Well
said ellis, Let us go down the can
yon and see what you can do" So
they started down Six-Mile canyon;
went beyond the first hills, turned to
one side into a cross canyon. ellis
set up a target and Mark began TO
blaze away at ii. The adjacent rocks
suffered more than did the target.
The noise, or something else, caused
a heavy, sluggish bird, probably a
sage hen, to rise and sail on slow
wing right above the head of Gillis.
Quick as a bash he drew his own
revolver and shot the bird above his
head, and then returned the pistol to
his pocket. AS 1t happened the
second of the man who had chal-
lenged Mark was coming down the
canyon. He saw the bird flying,
heard the shot and saw the bird fall.
Coming around the hill TO where
ellis was standing. seeing Mark APP
p%arently reloading his weapon and
seeing the dead bird, the man asked
ellis who had killed the bird. ellis.