THE GOLD SEEKER IN THE MOUNTAINS
On the apex of Medicine Mountain, whose rugged cliffs hold communion
with the fleeting clouds, and where the winds sing dismal songs among
the cedar boughs, there the forked lightnings at intervals light up the
panorama and a thousand beautiful springs and waterfalls sparkle like
myriads of diamonds. The mountain ash and the golden leaves of the
mountain quaking asp cast their shadows to make perfect this great
wonderland, whose colors are more splendid than the rainbow or the
golden setting of the western sun.
Among such scenery one could live away from the gilded vices and the
artificial lives of the crowded cities, and it was close to the god of
nature these people lived and carved their history on the mountains and
rocks, worshipped the sun because it was warm and bright, and because
it lighted the narrow trail through the defiles of the mountains, across
the streams and through the cool green forests, along the rugged cliffs
where the horny hoofs of the elk, deer, and mountain sheep had blazed a
trail so narrow and so steep that none but the Sheep Eaters dare travel
its rugged heights.
Along these trails could be seen at the four seasons of the year, all of
the Sheep Eaters, wending their way to the sacred shrine, the great
wheel, with its gates and its gods of plenty and light. Here on an
elevated spur a thousand feet above the Porcupine Basin, standing out to
the east, is a great look-out, where the great sun dial with its
twenty-eight spokes representing the twenty-eight tribes of the Sheep
Eaters, overlooking the great Grey Bull country, the Ten Sleep Mountains
and the Teton Peaks sweeping down toward the Big Horn Canyon. There the
Grey Bull and Wind River and Sage Creek are sweeping through Big Horn
Canyon, with its chiseled walls, more than a third of a mile in height,
and its serpentine trail fifty-two miles into the Big Horn River, and
thence into the Yellowstone and Missouri and on to the ocean.
Here nature's god had spread with lavish hand the richest and the
greatest blessings to the Sheep Eaters. The buffalo down in the valleys,
the antelope on the plains, the gazelle along the streams, and the elk,
black-tail and big horn on the mountains, the mountain grouse, and the
streams filled with trout, camas root for bread, cherries, raspberries,
and strawberries, made a Garden of Eden for these people until a
thousand years had passed, and the tribes increased to twenty-eight
before the onward march of the Sioux across and beyond the Mississippi
and Missouri brought them into the Sheep Eaters' country.
Around the base of these mountains were many alluring deposits of gold,
and small gold camps had started at Fire Springs, Bear Creek and on the
east and west forks of the historical Little Big Horn, all in or near
the beautiful Porcupine Basin. But the alluring grains of the precious
metal could not be found in paying quantities and the miners had quietly
packed their plunder and "hiked the trail" to more plentiful paying
"diggins."
The entire village was deserted except for the venerable Captain Jack,
who still drew a pension from the English Government which, small as it
was, supported him in this beautiful country.
As we swung down the trail which passed near his cabin door, we were
hailed by the old veteran, coming wet from his claim with a pan of sand,
which showed many grains of bright gold.
"Just took up a small pan, it's sure rich," he said, "get down and we
will have supper and some deer steak."
This was too much, for we were all hungry and tired, and the large
black-tail deer hanging in the corner of his cabin told only too well
that venison was in the larder. Our horses were soon picketed, the packs
stored away, and we were all straining our eyes to see the precious
gold.
There were many colors, but all but two or three were very fine. They
had lured thousands to the Basin, but the yellow metal could not be
found in anything like paying quantities. Mr. McKensey told the Captain
that I was quite an expert in placer mining and had been in the Black
Hills, Virginia City, and Old Alder Gulch. This was enough and I had to
agree to stay over a day and see a wonderful clean-up, which would be
tomorrow. I wanted to see more of the wonderful Basin and so decided to
stay over and see the Captain make his week's clean-up, which should run
from seventy-five to a hundred dollars, all told.
The Captain was seventy years of age, rheumatic, and slightly bent. Only
when speaking of the English Army he straightened his shoulders and was
all soldier. His eyes were a steel grey, and his hair was long and
white, hanging on his shoulders, and he wore a long thin beard. He was
well educated and loved the mountains with a love only known to the old
pioneer and miner. With assurances of a fine clean-up in the morning we
retired.
Morning brought the sweet refreshed feeling only known to the tired
mountaineer, and after our breakfast of venison, coffee, fried potatoes
and bacon, we were off for the sluice-boxes laden with the precious
metal.
As we walked along, the Captain told me that the geological formation
was something wonderful in that region, but with my lifetime of
experience I could see no reason for placer gold in the mountains. The
decomposed mountains showed considerable erosion but the rocks seemed
entirely devoid of granite or quartz, and there was no volcanic action
to be seen. There was considerable iron and sandstone, but no sign
whatever of gravel wash. The small particles of gold had surely been
deposited by some glacial wash from the north in the early formation of
the earth.
Soon we reached the cut where the Captain had done some wonderful work
in the shale rock. Where a large spring came out of the ground he had
piled the rock ten feet high on either side, and his dump where he had
piled tons of dirt was in splendid shape. Here was a notice framed in
the miner's style describing the veins, lodes, dips and spurs, running
fifteen hundred feet to the north-west and south-east, corner posts,
etc.
The sluice-boxes were soon cleaned and the sand and gravel reduced until
we could almost see the bottom of the pan--but no gold. After the entire
contents was retorted with quicksilver and burned out there was not
twenty-five cents worth of gold. The Captain assured me that his partner
had taken several ounces out of the claim and had sent it to the assay
office for melting and refining.
I said, "Captain, you are an old man and should go to the settlements
and enjoy the remainder of your life." He replied, "There is no place on
this earth so dear to me as these mountains. Here is where I have lived
and here is where I shall die--close to the nature god and his
beautiful works, among the flowers and birds of summer and the storms
and evergreens of winter."
It was enough. I caught the inspiration and could have remained with him
had I been so unconventional. But life held something dearer and I was
soon headed toward the cabin.
"Well, Captain," I said, "you will never find gold in these mountains,
but if you love the crags, and the wild winds and the deer, nature in
all its purity, the bursting of the buds in springtime, the flowers on a
thousand hills, the cold pure water, the frisking squirrels, the pure
air; then stay in the home of the miner, the prospector, the hunter and
the nature lover, until you cross the great divide which is allotted to
all men."
Our visit with the Captain was at an end, and we must say good-bye,
perhaps forever. Our horses were ready and our packs were lashed on with
the diamond hitch. I got my saddle horse and we moved down the trail,
the Captain talking about his placer. At last we came to the steep
trail, and he straightened up and said, "Well, when the snow flies I
will see you at your home in the city of Billings, and then I will show
you some gold that will convince you that I am right."
"Captain," I said, "the latch-string hangs out for you, and if you will
only come and spend the winter with me I shall then endeavor to even up
the score with you for this favor, as I know I can do it in no other
way."
He replied, "Well, I am glad that you know it, and when you photo the
great paint rocks of the Sheep Eaters, their Wheel or Holy Shrine, their
tepees and landmarks, send me a copy of their wonderful works. And may
the Great Spirit keep you until we meet again. So long, Doctor."
"So long, Captain, and may your days be full of sunshine."