When
we
finally left
for
Esmeralda, horseback,
we
had
an
addition
to
the
company
in
the
person
of
Capt. John Nye,
the
Governor's brother.
He
had a
good
memory,
and
a tongue
hung
in
the
middle.
This
is
a
combination
which
gives
immortality
to
conversation. Capt. John
never
suffered
the
talk
to
flag
or
falter
once
during
the
hundred
and
twenty
miles
of
the
journey.
In
addition
to
his
conversational powers,
he
had
one
or
two
other
endowments
of
a
marked
character.
One
was
a
singular
"handiness"
about
doing
anything
and
everything,
from
laying
out
a
railroad
or
organizing
a
political
party,
down
to
sewing
on
buttons,
shoeing
a horse,
or
setting
a
broken
leg,
or
a hen.
Another
was
a spirit
of
accommodation
that
prompted
him
to
take
the
needs,
difficulties
and
perplexities
of
anybody
and
everybody
upon
his
own
shoulders
at
any
and
all
times,
and
dispose
of
them
with
admirable
facility
and
alacrity—hence
he
always
managed
to
find
vacant
beds
in
crowded inns,
and
plenty
to
eat
in
the
emptiest larders.
And
finally, wherever
he
met a man,
woman
or
child,
in
camp,
inn
or
desert,
he
either
knew
such
parties
personally
or
had been acquainted
with
a
relative
of
the
same.
Such
another
traveling
comrade
was
never
seen
before. I cannot
forbear
giving
a
specimen
of
the
way
in
which
he
overcame difficulties.
On
the
second
day
out,
we
arrived,
very
tired
and
hungry,
at
a
poor
little
inn
in
the
desert,
and
were
told
that
the
house
was
full,
no
provisions
on
hand,
and
neither
hay
nor
barley
to
spare
for
the
horses—must
move
on.
The
rest
of
us
wanted
to
hurry
on
while
it
was
yet
light,
but
Capt. John
insisted
on
stopping awhile.
We
dismounted
and
entered.
There
was
no
welcome
for
us
on
any
face. Capt. John began
his
blandishments,
and
within
twenty
minutes
he
had accomplished
the
following
things, viz.: found
old
acquaintances
in
three
teamsters;
discovered
that
he
used
to
go
to
school
with
the
landlord's mother;
recognized
his
wife
as
a
lady
whose
life
he
had saved
once
in
California,
by
stopping
her
runaway horse; mended a child's
broken
toy
and
won
the
favor
of
its
mother, a
guest
of
the
inn;
helped
the
hostler
bleed
a horse,
and
prescribed
for
another
horse
that
had
the
"heaves"; treated
the
entire
party
three
times
at
the
landlord's bar; produced a later paper
than
anybody had
seen
for
a
week
and
sat
himself
down
to
read
the
news
to
a
deeply
interested audience.
The
result,
summed
up,
was
as
follows:
The
hostler
found
plenty
of
feed
for
our
horses;
we
had a
trout
supper,
an
exceedingly
sociable
time
after
it,
good
beds
to
sleep
in,
and
a surprising
breakfast
in
the
morning—and
when
we
left,
we
left lamented
by
all! Capt. John had
some
bad
traits,
but
he
had
some
uncommonly valuable
ones
to
offset
them
with. Esmeralda
was
in
many
respects
another
Humboldt,
but
in
a
little
more
forward state.
The
claims
we
had been paying assessments
on
were
entirely worthless,
and
we
threw
them
away.
The
principal
one
cropped
out
of
the
top
of
a
knoll
that
was
fourteen
feet high,
and
the
inspired
Board
of
Directors
were
running a tunnel
under
that
knoll
to
strike
the
ledge.
The
tunnel
would
have
to
be
seventy
feet long,
and
would
then
strike
the
ledge
at
the
same
dept
that
a
shaft
twelve
feet
deep
would
have
reached!
The
Board
were
living
on
the
"assessments." [N.B.—This hint
comes
too
late
for
the
enlightenment
of
New
York
silver
miners;
they
have
already
learned
all
about
this
neat
trick
by
experience.]
The
Board
had
no
desire
to
strike
the
ledge, knowing
that
it
was
as
barren
of
silver
as
a curbstone.
This
reminiscence
calls
to
mind
Jim
Townsend's tunnel.
He
had paid assessments
on
a
mine
called
the
"Daley"
till
he
was
well-nigh
penniless. Finally
an
assessment
was
levied
to
run
a tunnel
two
hundred
and
fifty
feet
on
the
Daley,
and
Townsend went
up
on
the
hill
to
look
into
matters.
He
found
the
Daley cropping
out
of
the
apex
of
an
exceedingly sharp- pointed peak,
and
a
couple
of
men
up
there
"facing"
the
proposed
tunnel. Townsend
made
a calculation.
Then
he
said
to
the
men: "So
you
have
taken a
contract
to
run
a tunnel
into
this
hill
two
hundred
and
fifty
feet
to
strike
this
ledge?" "Yes, sir." "Well,
do
you
know
that
you
have
got
one
of
the
most
expensive
and
arduous
undertakings
before
you
that
was
ever
conceived
by
man?" "Why no—how
is
that?" "Because
this
hill
is
only
twenty-five feet
through
from
side
to
side;
and
so
you
have
got
to
build
two
hundred
and
twenty-five feet
of
your
tunnel
on
trestle-work!"
The
ways
of
silver
mining
Boards
are
exceedingly dark
and
sinuous.
We
took
up
various
claims,
and
commenced
shafts
and
tunnels
on
them,
but
never
finished
any
of
them.
We
had
to
do
a
certain
amount
of
work
on
each
to
"hold" it,
else
other
parties
could
seize
our
property
after
the
expiration
of
ten
days.
We
were
always
hunting
up
new
claims
and
doing a
little
work
on
them
and
then
waiting
for
a buyer—who
never
came.
We
never
found
any
ore
that
would
yield
more
than
fifty
dollars
a ton;
and
as
the
mills
charged
fifty
dollars
a ton
for
working
ore
and
extracting
the
silver,
our
pocket-money
melted
steadily
away
and
none
returned
to
take
its
place.
We
lived
in
a
little
cabin
and
cooked
for
ourselves;
and
altogether
it
was
a
hard
life,
though
a hopeful one—for
we
never
ceased
to
expect
fortune
and
a
customer
to
burst
upon
us
some
day.
At
last,
when
flour reached a
dollar
a pound,
and
money
could
not
be
borrowed
on
the
best
security
at
less
than
eight
per
cent
a
month
(I being
without
the
security, too), I abandoned mining
and
went
to
milling.
That
is
to
say, I went
to
work
as
a
common
laborer
in
a
quartz
mill,
at
ten
dollars
a
week
and
board.