Weekly journal-miner., 1919-12-24
By SHARLOT M. HALL

of Tombstone, Is not the only man who took his fortune out of the hole that should be all odds have been his grave If there be an edict against prospecting in the golden streets Beyond the Range, l fancy that he often sits on the outer walls and whiles away the tagging hours exchanging "reminiscences with little ruddy-faced old man, whose clawhammer coat and clay dudheen were as we'll known for a quarter of a century in the mining camps of the Coast as the long hair and lionllke front of the lucky German.
 Barney O'Dulin av Killyyore, at yer service" was his regular intro duction. Come an have a dhrink to tn ould sod" And when he had had drinks, enough Barney O'Dulin would tuck the blackthorn shillalah, which he always carried, under his coattails, and would dance an Irish jig to set the shamrocks growing on the floor.
 Not new strike from Lower California to Alaska but saw these two, and the words "Schleftelin's gone" or "O'Dulin's there" were enough to cause an exodus of pros pectors, all grubstaked, for new Tombstone or Barney's Hill. Schief- ielin's good luck is wei known, and came to him through his persistence in prospecting a dangerous bit ot country against the opposition of his comrades. O'Dulinsr more prosaic fortune began when the cook of the Bullwhacker announced a strike. Some garbled accounts of 1t have strayed beyond the camp-fires where the last watch of the little band of old-timer prospectors boil their beans and horn-spoon endless chunks of quartz in search Of prospect" " but the whole story IS known to few besides
 It was long before the Chinese coolie had graduated from railroad entertainments to the kitchen. The East was a far-away place, vaguely designated as Gods country" and back ycnder," and California. familiarly spoken ot as inside" was a sort of Beulah land only to be reached after long and wearisome travel on the desert-in company with a mule wagon.
 Memories of women who could cook cndeared Gods country to the most hardened, and a trip inside" became synonymous with matrimony in the average masculine mind. The few incoming brides who brought a cook or housemaid soon found them selves called upon to attend another wedding. Indeed, the importer of female servants was all unrewarded philanthropist who conducted a per sonally profitless matrimonial bureau for his section.
 In a land Of such straights every man took his turn at the kettles, and the first one to kick had to cook or leave camp. Under the circum- stances it was no laughing matter when the only passable cook in the 1 BullWhaCkcr's crew picked up his bundle of drills after dinner and said Say, boys, I'll be skinned if 1 sling pots fer this crowd any longer. I'd rather put in three shifts in the Bull whacker every day. Somebody else got to take turn. I've cooked for six weeks straight
 Hi now, Hank" came a protest i ing chorus, you're the only man kin make duff"
 I'd do 1t quick enough, Hank-l kinder like to cook" said the ever conciliatory Dikes. But ye know ye said last time ye was 'fraid to 1 cross the crick after catin' my duff an the rope broke windlassin' Jack down the shaft cracked Joe's chiny plate, too, lcttin his piece down on it too hard"
 "I don't care, duff CT no duff. Ii God Almighty don't send this camp a cook before night yell all wrastlc yer own hash CT turn to empty. Tn that tired O pots 1 wouldn't cook another meal fer my mother"
 Six dejected faces shadowed by the memory of scalded hands and meals that would have cngcndercd dyspcp. Sia in all ostrich were turned to hin appealingly: An only three weeks i come Christmasm murmured Joe : SdulN. Dul DlhGS. NlO NdS Ny Slll 6 the trail as 1T he expected an instant answer to Hanks emphatic state, ment, nudged them and said in ar awed whisper: "Lookec there, boys
 There he comes! The Lords re membered us fer once, anyway"
 Dikes had been brought up a hard 1 shell Baptist, and portions of the shell still stuck to him in the shape of childlike belief in "hants" and signs" and warnings and a firm faith in the efficacy of prayer, cs peCiallv when the cards were running blue at poker. Other men might spit over their shoulders and trade chips; Dikes always repeated the l DoNology, and his luck, for a non. professional, had passed into loca proverbs.
 It did seem like a direct intcrposi ton of Providence when the bundle of rags coming down the trail shuf fled up, and, standing on one foot tC
 ease the blisters on its way-wor
 fellow, bowed deprecatingly, anC asked: Do yer honors be llnowin where there's d job:'
 Can you cook? shouted all slN,
 "I can thot. Wasn't 1 cook to hi,
 honor, the Mayor of Cork, rist hi, soul? le should sec the state din
 ncrs I've cooked in me time! Blu