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: