THE LOST MINE.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 237, 28 March 1885, Page 1

THE LOST MINE.

By Thomas A. Janvier,

(CONCLUDED.)

That day also Dick Irving went up into the mountains. He acknowledged to himself savagely that he had about got to the end of his rope, and this would be the last day of his foolery. For once he would have to own up that he had tackled a job that was too big for him ; and he was the more ugly over it because the piece of float that he had in his pocket made him believe absolutely that all that was told of la inina de los Padres was true. He knew that the mine was somewhere up beyond the arroyo of San Pedro ; and knowing this, and knowing how all his skilful search for it had ended in failure, he gritted his teeth together in sullen rage. He thought himself more than half a fool for making this last expedition, for his fait'i that it would end in anything but another failure was very weak indeed. But he was a conscientious man — as a prospector, that is— and he was not quite satisfied to go north again without having one more look at the ledge of rocks in the little canon, This was the one place in the mountains where he had struck rock identical with his specimen ; and while he had convinced himself by his first exploration that there was no mineral in the ledge at all comparable with that in the float, his absolute failure in all other directions made him desirous of having yet another look here. Moreover, his careful study of the locality had shown him that, all things considered, the canon was the most likely place from which the bit of float could have come. But for the mass of rocks in the canon's mouth, he would have been quite certain that it was from there that his specimen had started. And this wall of rocks across the mouth of the canon bothered him. In all the years that he had been prospecting he had never seen anything like it. If such a thing had not been impossible upon its face, he would "have believed tbat the rocks had been broken loose deliberately and thrown down from the cliffs above, not by nature, but by man. The more that his mind had dwelt upon the oddity of this barrier, and iipon the equal oddity of the mass of broken rocks in the line of the hedge, the more was his interest aroused. There was something queer about the place that attracted him, and he was determined to see it again. Of course, as he said to himself, with a good deal of hard swearing at his general brainlessness, there was nothing to be found there, and he only was going on a fool's errand again. But, all the same, with the dogged perseverance that was characteristic of him, he pulled himself together for the tough tramp up the arroyo and the mountain-side beyond.

It was a tough tramp, and no mistake ; and aa he had not any heart worth speaking of in what he was doing, he went slowly and made many halts- This was not his usual way of working, but he was low in his mind and was thinking gloomy thoughts, which quite took the customary spring out of his toes and heels. There is but little satisfaction to a man in knowing that he has had his hand very nearly on great good fortune for two months and more, and yet is losing it after all. Dick Irving, whose nature was not a gentle one, was in a state of glowing rage as he reflected that this was just about where he was — rage at his luck, at himself, at all the world. About the one thing that could have given him any comfort just then would have been a fight. He was fairly aching to balance his own misfortunes by taking them out on somebody else's hide.

Suddenly he was aroused by the deepeningshadows in the arroyo, to the fact that the end of the day was not far off. As he had intended camping for the night in the canon, this fact did not disconcert ; him, but it made him very considerably quicken his steps. Yet, for all his haste, the sun was near setting when he climbed the mass of stones lying in. a great ridge across the canon's mouth. Fortunately for his purposes, tk c

canon faced westward, and all within it was a blaze of mellow light from the level rays of the setting sun. As he climbed the barrier he heard a clicking noise that made him start as though he had received a blow ; and as he cautiously peered over the barrier's crest he saw a sight that sent the blood with a rush to his heart, and then fiercely tingling- through all his veins. For the sound that he heard was the click of a pick against rock, and the sight that he saw was a man, not a hundred yards away from him, at work on the very ledge itself ! If here truly was the lost mine, then was he too late ; another set of stakes was m ahead of his !

Luckily, the other man had not heard him scrambling over the rocks, and so. for the present, at least, he was master of the situation. Getting into a good position for observation, and crouching so that he could see, yet could not be seen, he carefully studied the ground. Evidently the man had been at work for many hours, and worked hard. The loose rocks which had lain in the break in the ledge were rolled away in all directions,— Dick could not but feel instinctive respect for the set of muscles that had dealt successfully with the tough lifting and hauling that this piece of work involved— and the earth that had washed in between the stones had been carefully shovelled away. This was about all that had been accomplished. But it was enough. For there, clearly defined in the line of the ledge, was the square-cut mouth of the old shaft. La mina de los Padres, lost for two hundred years, again was found !

As Dicklrviug realised the situation the rage that had been upon him all day culminated. He was in a white heat of passion, and' as tranquil as a morning in June. There was just one thing to be done, and he meant to do it.

" Only a Greaser, anyway," he muttered. "The idea," he added, disdainfully, "of a d d Greaser owning the Mine of the Fathers ! " In the excess of contemptuous disgust that this thought caused him he spat upon the ground.

Over the sights of his revolver he measured the distance carefully with his eye, and with commendable coolness decided that it was too great for certainty. As the business had to be done, he did not want to make a mess of it ; moreover, as he prudently reflected, around the shoulder of the canon there might be another man. With these judicious thoughts in mind, he worked his way softly across the wall of rocks — keeping well in the shelter of the great fragments — and down on its inner side. Once within the canon, there was no difficulty in slipping from rock to rock, until 1 he stopped at last behind two great bowlers, and through the rift between them covered his man at a distance of less that a dozen yards.

Juan had stopped in his work, and stood leaning on the handle of his pick. Over him and around him shone a blaze of rich red light, the last rays of the setting sun. • His face had a weary look, and his strained muscles were relaxed; but stronger than his look of weariness was his look of joy, and even the pose of his tired body was elate. For the gieat triumph of his life was won : at last he knew himself a victor over Fate. In his happiness he spoke his thought aloud : "My Techa! the joy-time of our life has come ! "

And even as he spoke these words the sharp crack of Dick Irviug'g revolver rattled and pealed and roared between the rocky walls of the cannon— and Juan sank down across the newly opened shaft of the Mine of the Fathers with a bullet through his ear. At that instant the sun dropped" below the level of the wall of rocks, and all the lower portion of the canon was left in dusk; duskier because in the upqer portion the light still shone pure and clear.

Through the canon, mingling with the echoes of the pistol-shot, yet rising above them, shrilly, " wailingly, sounded a° cry of mortal agony; a cry. despairing, desolate, charged with the burden of a lifetime of

Mtter woe; a cry that made Dick Irving' s weather-hardened face turn pale, and that sent a chill into the very depths of his tough heart; and while he wondered, doubtingly, tremblingly, whence came this woeful sound, Techita had sprung down from the crest of the ridge of rocks and was standing by her dead lover's side.

Her figure, seen in the gloom of the canon and through the powder smoke that lingered in the rift between the bowlders, loomed tall and indistinct against the darkness of the rocks beyond. He could not see her form ; he could not see her face — wrenched with the agony that comes when love dies suddenly before despair, liaising her hand heavenward, like a prophetess of old, her voice hushed to the deep, solemn tone of one who stands upon the very border of Time, and sees out clearly into the awful mysteries of Eternity, she spoke: "The curse has fallen— the curse of the Pueblos' god !"

Dick Irving was satisfied with, the good stroke of business that he had done, and his finer feelings rebelled against doiug any more business of that sort just then. On the other hand, his sturdy common sense told him that there was only one course that he could rationally pursue ; that he had gone too far for drawing back to be possible. " As nasty a job as ever I got into," he said to himself, standing beside the shaft, as lie drew two fresh cartridges from his belt, and dropped them into the emptied chambers of his revolver. Then, presently, in a burst of righteous indignation : " Confound her ! It ain't my fault, anyway. Why couldn't she have had the sense to say she was a woman ?" And then, as his nerves grew steadier, he added more cheerfully: " Well, after all, it's nothing but a pair of Greasers— lucky whack it was for me that I got here to-day, and in time to save the mine !"

Slowly the glory of the sunset spread across the west. Rising agoinst the red and golden splendour, the battlements of San Ildefonso stood sharply lined ; high into the gray-blue sky shot red and golden rays ; over the broad waters of the Rio Grande played red and golden lights: all heaven and all the earth beneath seemed blended in a red and golden symphony. Then, slowly, all this splendour passed away, until nothing was left of it save, in the far east, over the distant mountains, a little rosy cloud

In the still church, where hung the picture of the sweet Santa Clara, was loneliness ; in the still canon, high up on the mountain, was death. Over all the earth, darkening the silent church, darkening the silent canon, had come gray night.

The Lucky Whack Mining Company, as Dick Irving himself declares — and he ought to know, for he is president of it, and lives East in a style that proves that he has lots of pay dirt somewhere — is a rattling success. Daily output, two thousand ounces — and in sight.

THE END,