The Powder River County examiner and the Broadus independent. [volume] (Broadus, Mont.) 1919-1935, 1920-12-24
t'eANeLER's GHOST HAD BUTTE'S NERVES
JUMPING; AMATEUR SLEUTH LOCATED SPo0K

sounded doubly loud In that cavern,
had died away the voice screamed
again and again, LET me out. Let
me out" -,,,..
Mystified, baffled. and perhaps a
little frightened the clerk hastened
to tell others Of his experience. The
negro. refusing to even 60 near the
basement door, hurried away to
drown his fears in gin. (Rsmember
''i Lee si Ho aa is1'i truck driver and
city salesman for the Fried Cigar
stores and good friend Of mine
with whom I had been acquainted In
Dillon before going to Butte. led an
expedition down the basement that
afternoon. Armed with torches.
electric flashlights and candles. sup
posed to be effective weapons In
dealing with the supernatural. Lee
and two or three clerks explored the
gloomy depths Of the old mine. They
searched al corners Of the basement
and the old gambling dens, the floors
OF which were covered with the dust
Of 20 years.
In that place Of flickering lights
and disconcerting shadows, they held
10 whispered consultation, then Leo
cried out Justify. "Ghost, where are
your"
The effect was startling and in
|stantaneous. "I'm here" came the
reply. LET me out"
It seemed as II the sound eman-
|ated from their very midst. They
tried the experiment again. This
time the voice seemed to come from
the ceiling; then from beneath their
feet.
At times the plaintive LET me
OUT" seemed to come from far down
the shaft; at other times a. If mock
ing them It burst right in their ears.
Lee Hoerning told me later that
while they realized that in numbers
there IL safety and that no harm
could come to them, It was with diff
ficulty that they restrained q desire
to cut and run.
I'VE weren't scared" my friend
told me that night, "but we could
just feel goose flesh on our spines."
They laughed their fears away and
continued the search but It was to
no avail. And when they tried to
laugh again, It was q mockery-a
Lee Hoerning told me about the
affair after had quit work for the
night. It impressed me as being
whale of yarn" and SO returned
Ito the office. Hy Smurr, now with
the A. p. in Spokane, was in charge
of the city desk that night and he
told me to 60 the limit. did. The
story had all sorts of possibilities and
besides 1t was q scoop. When had
exhausted all of my theories, Hy pro-
vided some of his own; also two.
column head.
The next day all sorts of theories
and possible solutions were offered.
Some suggested the possibility of a
kidnapping case. The old shafts un-
dermine Butte like a labyrinth and
they would make excellent headquar-
tiers for any kind of criminals-coun-
lterfeiters, German spies, /. W. w. or
plotters.
Someone in a letter to the office
next day said that spies and enemy
agents had planned the destruction
of the entire city and every mine.
He concluded with statement to the
effect that evidence in his possession
proved the North Butte fire to be
of incendiary origin.
The story grew better as it devel-
oped. There were theories of every
sort to draw on. A shift-boss told
me 1t was possible that miner work.
ing in some other property had lost
his way and was wandering about the
ancient diggings.
The colored porter returned to
work the following morning but was
promptly frightened away by the best
story of the day. 1t seems that 20
Years ago that week, a gambler had
beneath the cigar store. Some old
timer-I have been grateful to him
ever since-promptly remembered
the incident, "and," he continued,
darkly, mind you I'm not saying it
is or 1t isn't, but it might be his
ghost come back to haunt the dig
gings."
To many this was a plausible ex-
PLANTATION. At any rate it was good
enough for the porter and to some
members of the expedition who had
accompanied Lee Hoerning on his
tour of exploration.
We played up every angle of the
case that day and as an added at
traction interviewed q medium. In
an accommodating manner she fell
into trance and held lengthy con-
|versation-mingled with groans and
spooky sighs-with the spirit of the
departed gambler.
He - the ghost-didn't have
great deal to say. although he moan
ed q lot and groaned something about
10 wound in his head. We interpreted
this as sure sign that a bullet in
the brain had ended his career on
earth.
Sure enough, that's where he was
shot-right in the head" the old
timer who had remembered the muir
der, told me when I informed him
of my interview with the medium.
All of which made the story that
much the better.
BY this time the yarn was worth
nearly a column day and getting
better every minute.