The "Lucky Find" Mine [pp. 259-268]

THE "LUCKY FIND"
A TALE OF THE BLACK HILLS
BY E. WHEAT GILLMORE
RVING DEPEW represented a syndi cate on Wall Street which had serious
thoughts of purchasing the "Lucky
Find' goldc-mine in the Black Hills of
Soutlt D)akota. The young man's father
was president of the syndicate, and his last
words to his son, as he boarded the outgoing train on his first Western trip, were: "Aly boy, remember that miners are a
shrewd lot. Keep your eyes open, or we
shall fare badly in this matter."
So intent was Depew in reaching his
destination that he availed himself of no
stop-over, but went direct to the fort of
Sidney, in Nebraska. From there a stage
ride of nearly two hundred miles awaited
him before he could reach Rapid City in
South I)akota. At that point he expected
to be nmet by the superintendent of the
"Lucky Find" and driven to the famous
mine, somne twenty-five miles farther on.
In his youth he had dreamed of the
gold-mines that had made his father rich.
His boyhood's fancy pictured them in the
most fantastic colors. The great West, with
her mighty mountains imprisoning untold
wealtlh, reminded him of some giant miser
who had built an almost impenetrable bulwark around his treasures. These earlier
impressions left their stamp upon him,
and when he felt he was about to realize
some of his youthful dreams, to see with
his own eyes rich mines in active operation, the mountains he had heard described, the miners and cowboys he had
read of, he was inspired with enthusiasm.
When he arrived in Sidney-one of the
noted forts in the West-he was surprised
to see a town of only a few hundred inhabitants. He thought Uncle Sam could
not have chosen a more unattractive spot
for a military post. N-o wonder the soldiers felt as if they were prisoners in exile.
There were no trees or shrubs to relieve
the persistent stare of the sun. A hotel, a
rough, unpainted post-office, a few cheap
houses, a saloon or two, a schoolhouse, a
barren, lonely cemetery, and the fort,
made up the little town.
The stage would not start until the fol 259
lowing afternoon. There was nothing to
be seen, nothing to do, but to wait. Twenty-four hours seemed double long to his
restless spirit. Toward the cool of the
evening, as he was sauntering up and down
the front of the hotel, he met a soldier.
Depew's face attracted the private, and he
greeted him as if he were a long-lost
friend.
"You must lead a lonely life out here,"
Irving said kindly.
The mention of that topic touched the
man's heartstrings, and giving vent to his
pent-up feelings he began to pour forth
his tale of woe. There had been no Indian
outbreak for months,-how they pined for
one!-nothing to relieve the monotony of
their routine life. Everything went like
clockwork in the garrison, and the men
felt as if they were gradually becoming
machines, devoid of brains or ambition.
As he spoke, a whistle pierced the air.
"The express from the West. A few of
us off duty always comes down to see her
run in. Nobody never gets off, you know,
except now and then some passenger to
take a turn on the platform."
Both of them walked toward the railway
station. When the train stopped the look
of idle indifference on their faces gave way
to one of surprise and intense interest as a
young girl alighted fronm the car. A middle-aged man accompanied her, and a
trunk was unloaded on the platform. That
no person had come to meet her was selfevident.
" I am sure you have made a mistake,"
her companion said.
"No; I have heard him speak of this
route and the long stage-ride, over and
over again. I remember the details so well
that it seems as if I had taken the trip
myself."
"Well, if you insist, I must leave you.
Bon voyage!"
"Bon voyage yourself, monsieur!"
Her voice reminded Depew of a richtoned silver bell.
After the train left she looked around
aimlessly for a moment and then started
MINE