Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-11-17

across deserts ana mountains, III
four days! Why? To see the
Mystery Mansion at the end of the
trail. Eight hundred miles on wild
goose chase, perhaps for who could tell In
what mood Scotty would be upon our arrival?
Would he be cordial and chatty, or sullen and
repelling? Possibly We would be driven away
after all the miles traversed without even a
Iook-in for Scotty has his days-on and of.
Then, too Scotty has his troubles, like the
rest of us. The inquisitive public annoys him.
He threatens to move bag and baggage and TO
erect his mansion upon the top Of one OF the
towering peaks not far away. Perhaps he will
move his mansion and place it upon a lovely
mountain that stands back of the present site.
This mountain top would be an ideal place
such an inaccessible place. No one could pos
sibly reach 1t, except by invitation. OF course,
q cable would have to be utilized for entrance
and exit; indeed for moving the mansion itself.
This is a good idea and perhaps Scotty will
accept it, for what's money to Scotty? He has
q gold mine where he picks up gold nuggets as
big as hens eggs, and no one knows where IL
is Sure, he has been followed, but somewhere
along the trail he has disappeared, and it is
said that even an Indian expert enough to trail
= butterfly through a cyclone. could not possibly
track Scotty to his treasure trove.
OUCH were our thoughts as, early in the morn
~ ing we left Reno over a wonderful road.
What a beautiful morning! One wished for
wings-the auto not fast enough-for the
air was so rare clear and invigoratng. Around
the base of the Sierra Nevada led our trail.
Through green fields and forest, past Steam
boat Springs, the steam from its underground
caldrons rising like a white veil in the light
morning air, through a dark canyon with
wooded sides for a few miles, then to emerge
in full view of Washoe Lake, nesting In peace
in the shadow of a mighty monument to the
early days of Nevada. Through Carson City,
the States capital, hidden in forest of poplars
Then, mile after mile into the sparsely settled
country at any desired speed, for the road was
hard and smooth and traffic did not impede
MIGHT passes and morning finds us again
l on our way. Through the town and over
the ridge, and wonderful road lies straight
ahead; long black arrow, down grade into
bowl of Natures fashioning; on and on, miles
and miles along the hollow, then straight up an
opposite grade to Goldfeld, a ghost camp,
almost deserted. Then out into the open again;
but where is the road? The entire face of the
earth hereaboutS seems covered by travel tracks,
but which is the road? Various tracks lead
somewhere evidently-desert roads, terribly cor
rugated uncared for-but which one leads to
Scottys? No matter, all seem going toward
Death Valley, and If one took the wrong road
it would make no difference. for crosS-cut at
any angle would lead into another and so on
and on until the right one found.
Ninety-hve miles to Scotty's-95 miles of
impressive solitude and grandeur awe-inspiring
and enhancing. A dead white floor, cleaning
and vast, falls upon the vision-Mud Flats
and at the far end straight ahead beautiful
lake encircled by tall trees Refreshing afteE
the hot dry desert. TWenty-siX miles of white,
caked hard, dry earth, traversed by auto tracks
converging toward the lovely lake that recedes
and recedeS as the distance lessens and at the
end-nothing-no lake, no trees-only few
clusters of sage brush that would scarcely
shelter horned toad or a desert snipe-a
mirage, that Elusive fairy that has led to death
30 many fortune-Seeking men.
At last Grapevine Ravine winding between
two mountain ranges. High cliffs and steep
slopes. Only one road now, rocky but clearly de-
fired, curling in and out among boulders and
Clumps of trees. At last something green. No
mirage this time. An acre more of tall trees,
grass, spring, river winding down, the road
beside 1t, and at the end Scotty's house, the
Mansion of Mystery! In a moment we are
knocking at the portalS-a one-story lodge with
gates wide open, as if inviting the traveller to
come in and rest awhile. rs Mr.. Scott at
home?" graciously. mo, away for a week."
week! A week in which to spend some of the
fabulous wealth taken from his mysterious gold
mine perhaps.
Regret or relief? Scotty has his moods so we
had been told. Gould we see the mansion?
One of the party has come clear from Wash
ington, D. c." Washington! Magic word and
open sesame here and abroad! The place was
ours!
STRANGE that now we are here at the Man
- sion it does not receive our first attention,
for the mighty lone mountain towering q