I
now
come
to
a
curious
episode—the
most
curious, I think,
that
had
yet
accented
my slothful, valueless, heedless career.
Out
of
a hillside
toward
the
upper
end
of
the
town, projected a
wall
of
reddish
looking
quartz-croppings,
the
exposed
comb
of
a silver-bearing
ledge
that
extended
deep
down
into
the
earth,
of
course.
It
was
owned
by
a
company
entitled
the
"Wide West."
There
was
a
shaft
sixty
or
seventy
feet
deep
on
the
under
side
of
the
croppings,
and
everybody
was
acquainted
with
the
rock
that
came
from
it—and tolerably
rich
rock
it
was, too,
but
nothing
extraordinary. I
will
remark here,
that
although
to
the
inexperienced
stranger
all
the
quartz
of
a
particular
"district"
looks
about
alike,
an
old
resident
of
the
camp
can
take
a glance
at
a mixed
pile
of
rock,
separate
the
fragments
and
tell
you
which
mine
each
came from,
as
easily
as
a confectioner
can
separate
and
classify
the
various
kinds
and
qualities
of
candy
in
a mixed
heap
of
the
article.
All
at
once
the
town
was
thrown
into
a
state
of
extraordinary
excitement.
In
mining
parlance
the
Wide
West
had "struck
it
rich!" Everybody went
to
see
the
new
developments,
and
for
some
days
there
was
such
a crowd
of
people
about
the
Wide
West
shaft
that
a
stranger
would
have
supposed
there
was
a
mass
meeting
in
session
there.
No
other
topic
was
discussed
but
the
rich
strike,
and
nobody
thought
or
dreamed
about
anything
else.
Every
man
brought
away
a specimen, ground
it
up
in
a
hand
mortar,
washed
it
out
in
his
horn
spoon,
and
glared
speechless
upon
the
marvelous
result.
It
was
not
hard
rock,
but
black, decomposed
stuff
which
could
be
crumbled
in
the
hand
like
a
baked
potato,
and
when
spread
out
on
a paper
exhibited
a
thick
sprinkling
of
gold
and
particles
of
"native" silver. Higbie brought a
handful
to
the
cabin,
and
when
he
had
washed
it
out
his
amazement
was
beyond
description.
Wide
West
stock
soared
skywards.
It
was
said
that
repeated
offers
had been
made
for
it
at
a
thousand
dollars
a foot,
and
promptly
refused.
We
have
all
had
the
"blues"—the
mere
sky- blues—but
mine
were
indigo, now—because I
did
not
own
in
the
Wide
West.
The
world
seemed
hollow
to
me,
and
existence
a grief. I lost my appetite,
and
ceased
to
take
an
interest
in
anything.
Still
I had
to
stay,
and
listen
to
other
people's rejoicings,
because
I had
no
money
to
get
out
of
the
camp
with.
The
Wide
West
company
put
a stop
to
the
carrying
away
of
"specimens,"
and
well
they
might,
for
every
handful
of
the
ore
was
worth
a
sun
of
some
consequence.
To
show
the
exceeding
value
of
the
ore, I
will
remark
that
a sixteen-hundred-pounds
parcel
of
it
was
sold,
just
as
it
lay,
at
the
mouth
of
the
shaft,
at
one
dollar
a pound;
and
the
man
who
bought
it
"packed"
it
on
mules
a
hundred
and
fifty
or
two
hundred
miles,
over
the
mountains,
to
San Francisco, satisfied
that
it
would
yield
at
a
rate
that
would
richly
compensate
him
for
his
trouble.
The
Wide
West
people
also
commanded
their
foreman
to
refuse
any
but
their
own
operatives
permission
to
enter
the
mine
at
any
time
or
for
any
purpose. I kept
up
my "blue"
meditations
and
Higbie kept
up
a
deal
of
thinking, too,
but
of
a
different
sort.
He
puzzled
over
the
"rock,"
examined
it
with
a glass,
inspected
it
in
different
lights
and
from
different
points
of
view,
and
after
each
experiment
delivered
himself,
in
soliloquy,
of
one
and
the
same
unvarying
opinion
in
the
same
unvarying formula: "It
is
not
Wide
West
rock!"
He
said
once
or
twice
that
he
meant
to
have
a
look
into
the
Wide
West
shaft
if
he
got
shot
for
it. I
was
wretched,
and
did
not
care
whether
he
got a
look
into
it
or
not.
He
failed
that
day,
and
tried
again
at
night;
failed
again; got
up
at
dawn
and
tried,
and
failed
again.
Then
he
lay
in
ambush
in
the
sage brush
hour
after
hour,
waiting
for
the
two
or
three
hands
to
adjourn
to
the
shade
of
a
boulder
for
dinner;
made
a start once,
but
was
premature—one
of
the
men came
back
for
something; tried
it
again,
but
when
almost
at
the
mouth
of
the
shaft,
another
of
the
men
rose
up
from
behind
the
boulder
as
if
to
reconnoitre,
and
he
dropped
on
the
ground
and
lay
quiet; presently
he
crawled
on
his
hands
and
knees
to
the
mouth
of
the
shaft, gave a
quick
glance around,
then
seized
the
rope
and
slid
down
the
shaft.
He
disappeared
in
the
gloom
of
a "side drift"
just
as
a
head
appeared
in
the
mouth
of
the
shaft
and
somebody shouted "Hello!"—which
he
did
not
answer.
He
was
not
disturbed
any
more.
An
hour
later
he
entered
the
cabin, hot, red,
and
ready
to
burst
with
smothered
excitement,
and
exclaimed
in
a
stage
whisper: "I
knew
it!
We
are
rich! IT'S A BLIND LEAD!" I
thought
the
very
earth
reeled
under
me. Doubt—conviction—doubt again—exultation—hope, amazement, belief, unbelief—every
emotion
imaginable
swept
in
wild
procession
through
my
heart
and
brain,
and
I
could
not
speak
a word.
After
a
moment
or
two
of
this
mental
fury, I shook
myself
to
rights,
and
said: "Say
it
again!" "It's blind lead!" "Cal, let's—let's
burn
the
house—or kill somebody! Let's
get
out
where
there's
room
to
hurrah!
But
what
is
the
use?
It
is
a
hundred
times
too
good
to
be
true." "It's a blind lead,
for
a million!—hanging wall—foot wall—clay casings—everything complete!"
He
swung
his
hat
and
gave
three
cheers,
and
I cast
doubt
to
the
winds
and
chimed
in
with
a will.
For
I
was
worth
a
million
dollars,
and
did
not
care
"whether
school
kept
or
not!"
But
perhaps
I
ought
to
explain. A "blind lead"
is
a lead
or
ledge
that
does
not
"crop out"
above
the
surface. A
miner
does
not
know
where
to
look
for
such
leads,
but
they
are
often
stumbled
upon
by
accident
in
the
course
of
driving
a tunnel
or
sinking
a shaft. Higbie
knew
the
Wide
West
rock perfectly well,
and
the
more
he
had
examined
the
new
developments
the
more
he
was
satisfied
that
the
ore
could
not
have
come
from
the
Wide
West
vein.
And
so
had
it
occurred
to
him
alone,
of
all
the
camp,
that
there
was
a blind lead
down
in
the
shaft,
and
that
even
the
Wide
West
people
themselves
did
not
suspect it.
He
was
right.
When
he
went
down
the
shaft,
he
found
that
the
blind lead
held
its
independent
way
through
the
Wide
West
vein, cutting
it
diagonally,
and
that
it
was
enclosed
in
its
own
well-defined casing-rocks
and
clay.
Hence
it
was
public property.
Both
leads being perfectly
well
defined,
it
was
easy
for
any
miner
to
see
which
one
belonged
to
the
Wide
West
and
which
did
not.
We
thought
it
well
to
have
a
strong
friend,
and
therefore
we
brought
the
foreman
of
the
Wide
West
to
our
cabin
that
night
and
revealed
the
great
surprise
to
him. Higbie said: "We
are
going
to
take
possession
of
this
blind lead,
record
it
and
establish
ownership,
and
then
forbid
the
Wide
West
company
to
take
out
any
more
of
the
rock.
You
cannot
help
your
company
in
this
matter—nobody
can
help
them. I
will
go
into
the
shaft
with
you
and
prove
to
your
entire
satisfaction
that
it
is
a blind lead.
Now
we
propose
to
take
you
in
with
us,
and
claim
the
blind lead
in
our
three
names.
What
do
you
say?"
What
could
a
man
say
who
had
an
opportunity
to
simply stretch
forth
his
hand
and
take
possession
of
a
fortune
without
risk
of
any
kind
and
without
wronging
any
one
or
attaching
the
least
taint
of
dishonor
to
his
name?
He
could
only
say, "Agreed."
The
notice
was
put
up
that
night,
and
duly
spread
upon
the
recorder's
books
before
ten
o'clock.
We
claimed
two
hundred
feet each—six
hundred
feet
in
all—the smallest
and
compactest
organization
in
the
district,
and
the
easiest
to
manage.
No
one
can
be
so
thoughtless
as
to
suppose
that
we
slept,
that
night. Higbie
and
I went
to
bed
at
midnight,
but
it
was
only
to
lie
broad
awake
and
think, dream, scheme.
The
floorless, tumble-down
cabin
was
a palace,
the
ragged
gray
blankets silk,
the
furniture
rosewood
and
mahogany.
Each
new
splendor
that
burst
out
of
my
visions
of
the
future
whirled
me
bodily
over
in
bed
or
jerked
me
to
a sitting
posture
just
as
if
an
electric
battery
had been applied
to
me.
We
shot
fragments
of
conversation
back
and
forth
at
each
other.
Once
Higbie said: "When
are
you
going home—to
the
States?" "To-morrow!"—with
an
evolution
or
two,
ending
with
a sitting position. "Well—no—but
next
month,
at
furthest." "We'll
go
in
the
same
steamer." "Agreed." A pause. "Steamer
of
the
10th?" "Yes. No,
the
1st." "All right."
Another
pause. "Where
are
you
going
to
live?" said Higbie. "San Francisco." "That's me!" Pause. "Too high—too
much
climbing"—from Higbie. "What is?" "I
was
thinking
of
Russian
Hill—building a
house
up
there." "Too
much
climbing? Shan't
you
keep
a carriage?" "Of course. I forgot that." Pause. "Cal.,
what
kind
of
a
house
are
you
going
to
build?" "I
was
thinking
about
that. Three-story
and
an
attic." "But
what
kind?" "Well, I don't
hardly
know. Brick, I suppose." "Brick—bosh." "Why?
What
is
your
idea?" "Brown
stone
front—French
plate
glass—billiard-room
off
the
dining- room—statuary
and
paintings—shrubbery
and
two-acre
grass
plat—greenhouse—iron
dog
on
the
front stoop—gray horses—landau,
and
a coachman
with
a bug
on
his
hat!" "By George!" A
long
pause. "Cal.,
when
are
you
going
to
Europe?" "Well—I hadn't
thought
of
that.
When
are
you?" "In
the
Spring." "Going
to
be
gone
all
summer?" "All summer! I
shall
remain
there
three
years." "No—but
are
you
in
earnest?" "Indeed I am." "I
will
go
along
too." "Why
of
course
you
will." "What
part
of
Europe
shall
you
go
to?" "All parts. France, England, Germany—Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Syria, Greece, Palestine, Arabia, Persia, Egypt—all over—everywhere." "I'm agreed." "All right." "Won't
it
be
a
swell
trip!" "We'll
spend
forty
or
fifty
thousand
dollars
trying
to
make
it
one, anyway."
Another
long
pause. "Higbie,
we
owe
the
butcher
six
dollars,
and
he
has been
threatening
to
stop our—" "Hang
the
butcher!" "Amen."
And
so
it
went on.
By
three
o'clock
we
found
it
was
no
use,
and
so
we
got
up
and
played
cribbage
and
smoked
pipes
till
sunrise.
It
was
my
week
to
cook. I
always
hated
cooking—now, I
abhorred
it.
The
news
was
all
over
town.
The
former
excitement
was
great—this
one
was
greater
still. I walked
the
streets
serene
and
happy. Higbie said
the
foreman
had been
offered
two
hundred
thousand
dollars
for
his
third
of
the
mine. I said I
would
like
to
see
myself
selling
for
any
such
price. My
ideas
were
lofty. My
figure
was
a million. Still, I honestly
believe
that
if
I had been
offered
it,
it
would
have
had
no
other
effect
than
to
make
me
hold
off
for
more. I found
abundant
enjoyment
in
being rich. A
man
offered
me
a three- hundred-dollar horse,
and
wanted
to
take
my simple, unendorsed
note
for
it.
That
brought
the
most
realizing
sense I had
yet
had
that
I
was
actually rich,
beyond
shadow
of
doubt.
It
was
followed
by
numerous
other
evidences
of
a
similar
nature—among
which
I
may
mention
the
fact
of
the
butcher
leaving
us
a
double
supply
of
meat
and
saying
nothing
about
money.
By
the
laws
of
the
district,
the
"locators"
or
claimants
of
a
ledge
were
obliged
to
do
a
fair
and
reasonable
amount
of
work
on
their
new
property
within
ten
days
after
the
date
of
the
location,
or
the
property
was
forfeited,
and
anybody
could
go
and
seize
it
that
chose.
So
we
determined
to
go
to
work
the
next
day.
About
the
middle
of
the
afternoon,
as
I
was
coming
out
of
the
post
office, I met a Mr. Gardiner,
who
told
me
that
Capt. John Nye
was
lying
dangerously
ill
at
his
place
(the "Nine-Mile Ranch"),
and
that
he
and
his
wife
were
not
able
to
give
him
nearly
as
much
care
and
attention
as
his
case
demanded. I said
if
he
would
wait
for
me
a moment, I
would
go
down
and
help
in
the
sick
room. I
ran
to
the
cabin
to
tell
Higbie.
He
was
not
there,
but
I left a
note
on
the
table
for
him,
and
a
few
minutes
later I left
town
in
Gardiner's wagon.