The Press., 1913-04-09
On Good Luck
 Trail
Good Luck In More Ways Then One
By cLARIssA MAcKIH

I don't know why they call Gnt
 Good Luck trail," he mutteged, "un
 less 1t Is because you're having good luck if you get back alive. l can't think of any other reason"
 He wiped the precipitation from hil heated face, settled the pack on his
 bent back and resumed the steady
 upward climb into the heart of the Sierras. Somewhere far above him on a rough piece of paper he carried next his heart, was a hid len treasure of gold dust. Lem Harrison's Uncle Peter had been a forty-niner and among the first to reach the California Roldfields. He had written letters home of a wonderful fortune he had amassed and told in detail how the precious dust was contained in stout tin boxes and the whole hoard cached in this gully until his search for riches was ended. Then he would gather up all his treasure and take it down to San Francisco.
 Months after that had come news of his death in San Francisco. almost penniless. His widow, who went west to bring back his remains, could ob- tain no news of the fortune he had written about and the only clew to which was a small, rough map found among his clothing. This she gave to Lem Harrisons father. who in turn bequeathed 1t to his son as curiosity.
 But Lem possessed the same spirit of adventure that had prompted his Uncle Peter to fare forth in search of fortune, and after the death of his parents he, too, had turned his face to the golden west, and tucked inside his pocket was the map made by his Un- cle Peter sixty years before. For sev- eral years Lem led a varied life on the plains.
 He had been cattleman and pros pector and trackwalker for the rail- road, but the lure of gold drew him ever farther westward until his feet had crossed the line into California, and he had at last set forth on a defi- nite expedition in search of the gold dust concealed by his uncle.
 If he took it down to Frisco with him why did he make the map?" he argued with himself at night when he made his lonely camp. Seems as if he might have found more gold after he hid that first lot and so he left it there and took the second lot down to the city and blew it in. I don't like to think that I have been deceiving my self all these years and that when l get to Good Luck gulch Pm going to be disappointed. Who knows but somebody else has found 1t years back? Pshaw! I won't think any thing more about 1t till get there"
 Lem Harrison beguiled his lonely way with occasional monologues. AS he mounted higher into the rare upper air of the mountains he felt a great ex- hilaration- In the distance were snow capped peaks, and about him there were young pines that glistened in the sunlight. He sniffed the fresh air and whistled cheerily.
 According to his map he had another mile to travel before he would reach the entrance to the gulch that was his goal. He had crossed and recrossed a crooked stream that latticed the trail with little runlets, and he recognized it as the stream described by his uncle and from whose waters had been wash ed the precious gold. In Good Luck gulch this stream had it's greatest breadth.
 Three quarters of a mile farther and just as the sun was setting he knew that he was nearing his goal. The pines had thinned out, and he had reached an eminence where he could look back over the trail and see it drop ping like a sad colored string down the mountain side.
 If don't find If, l" he muttered grim ly, 'T'n give this trail a new name. It won't sound like good luck and it'll smell mighty sulphurousE"
 He wouldn't go on any farther that night He made camp then and there so that he might look upon the guIch by the early sunlight The sun had dropped beyond the distant peaks, and there came the refreshing cooiness of a California night
 A red bar of light across his eyes awOke him to a new day-the day of his life. This arrival at Good Luck gulch was the continuation of his fa- thers dreams and his own boyish hopes. Now he was thirty-three and the treasure might be still uncovered.
 Breakfast was a brief meal, and, with his pack neatly rolled, once more he re- stunned his journey, silent, tense with suppressed excitement. The pines dis appeared to give way to wind blown eottonwOods and ragged rocks, and then the trail dipped down toward the west. He had passed over the summit and now the trail led down. He had lost track of the stream of water. He was off the right trail. Where had he missed it?
 A half hohr later he found 1t again and saw that the stream wound around the mountain from the west side, and 1t was there that he must look for Good Luck gulch. The air was softer and clearer here, with a mellowness that it had lacked on the more rugged eastern slope.
 Then all at once he came upon the gulch. It must be the gulch. for the stream danced forth from 1t with gilt tertng points of flame, as If each one had been touched by fairy gold. Through a narrow defile, with scarcely | . foot's breadth on either side of the | stream, and then he stood in a pocket | of the mountain-a pocket that faced | westward and south and was green | and fourishing with soft, velvety turf, | and standing in the midst of 1t was a | substantial log house with a broad | Veranda, on which were comfortable | chairs. A hry coming across the turf was a young girl of about twenty. Ill one hand she swung shining milk pail. and as she came she sang in rich soprano voice. Lem Harrison watched her spell bound, convinced that ce more he had wandered from Cool Luck trail