Evening Star Newspaper, June 21, 1931, Page 72

e Mn s that the Papagoes never killed ¥ This %ld desert rat adds an analysis of prospector's psychology that cannot be im- proved upon. “It is not in the finding but in the hunting that the enchantment lies. If I were worth millions I'd still be here in this camp tramping the hills—looking for gold al- ways.” COUNTRY crowdsd with people chokes ex- pectation and hope. In desert spaces the human imagination anticipates marvels. Any- thing can be expected, anything might be found in a vast land uncluttered by humanity; the wilder and wider the spaces the more vivid the anticipation. No region in the world is more congenial for prospectors than the moun- tains and deserts of Arizona. And no people in the world are more capable of being en- chanted by golden prospects than are doctors. Vendors of gold bricks long ago discovered that doctors are a great deal more sanguine than sanguinary. My friend, Dr. R. W. Noble, of ‘Temple, Tex., has all but persuaded me to g0 to Arizona with him. “Suppose,” he argues, “that some miners who had struck it Jucky in the gold fields of California were crossing the mountains by stage and were besieged by Indians. One of the miners is supposed to have had $30,000 worth of dust and the others more than a littie. Sup- pose the siege to last two or three days, during which time they were one by one killed until not a survivor was left, Would they leave the gold out on the ground to be picked up by their enemies, or would they hide it among the rocks in the hope that at least one of their number might escape to reclaim it?” The supposition is based on facts, “not legend.” On or about April 25, 1861, Jim Gid- dings, a Texan, entered Steins Pass, near the Arizona-New Mexico boundary line, in a stage- coach with six other men, including the driver. ‘Three or four of the men had made a stake in the gold fields of California. The attack by the Apaches lasted two or three days before the last man went down. Before long people in Tucson learned of the fight and went out to bury the dead. They found only five bodies. These were all near a kind of breastwork that the besieged had made of rocks. Soon after this Dr. Noble's father, together with his young wife and about 60 other persons, while passing through Tucson on their way back from California, heard of the trouble at Stein’s Pass. On May 26, a month almost to the day after the killing, Noble’s party camped at the pass. They de- termined to find the two unburied bodies. Out some distance from the road they found them, or rather the skeletons, for wolves had polished the bones. One of the skeletons was known to be that of Jim Giddings. Noble helped carry them over to a spot where a mountain trail crossed the stage road, not far from the breastworks the besieged had thrown up, and here in a shallow grave they were buried. Then rocks were heaped over the double grave and a piece of surplus board carried in one of the wagons was pu} up to mark the head. Mrs. Noble wrote on the board with ink the names of Jim Giddings and his companion. Her diary recording the event is still preserved. In 1918 Dr. Noble, son of the Noble who had helped bury the skeletons at Stein's Pass, was fishing in Medina Lake, near San Antonio, with a banker named Ernest Brown. During the talk that came while the fish were not biting Mr. Brown remarked that his mother was about to leave for Arizona to see if she could locate the grave of her father, Jim Giddings, who was killed by Apaches at Stein's Pass when she was only two years old. She was not certain that the grave had ever been marked; she wanted to learn what she could from old- timers. Dr. Noble then related the story he had heard so often told both by his father and mother and had read th the latter's diary. With the information thus procured from her son’s fellow fisherman Mrs. Brown went to Stein’s Pass. She found the mound of rocks marking the grave and found an old-timer who had in 1865 read the name Jim Giddings on the board placed at the head of it. She had a 15-ton block of granite hauled out to mark the spot permanently. On this granite she had engraved the circumstances of the mas- sacre as well as the names of the men who died by it. Near this historical monument the crude breastworks thrown up by the ill-fated travelers in 1861 can still be seen. US there can be no mistake in the place where seven men, among them several miners, one of whom had at least $30,000 in dust, perished 70 years ago. Now, would men with gold and with time in which to bury it while expecting death leave it out on the open ground or would they hide it among the rocks? If they did hide it—bury it—then a man hunting it has a fairly restricted plot in which to look. Let him not act the fool and dig under the granite monument. Treasuer hunters have done worse than that, as Charles N. Gould of Oklahoma Geological Survey, living at Norman, will testify. “While hunting structure—mot treasure—in Eastern Oklahoma a few years ago,” he writes me, “I ran into a countryman who hailed originally from Arkansas. I carried in my hand a topographic map of the region supplied by the United States Geodetic Survey. It indi- cated that on a hill near by there should be one of those markers called ‘towers,” commonly erected by engineers while making contour maps. “I asked the countryman if he knew where the tower was. : “‘No,” he replied, ‘there ain’t no tower about here, but something mighty queer did happen up on that hill you are a-pointing to. There was a rock up there with some strange marks on it and some pieces of scantling and big spikes.’ ' “We climbed the hill and came to a hole big ‘encugh to hold a Missouri barn. “¢r: - man who found the rock has been diggir. ~ ° trcasure,’ my guide explained. % ‘Whao \vos the rock Mke?’ ®‘Weli it was flat. In the middle of it was an X. Then there were letters grouped this way: U on top, G to the left, 8 at the bottom and another 8 at the right. We could not figure out what on earth the letters meant. They certainly meant something. I studied and studied over the matter, and then one night I woke up with the meaning flashing through my mind.’ “Here the countryman paused, picked up a stick and drawing a diagram on the ground spelled out the message that had come to him like a flash. “‘An X, he began, ‘always means 10. The rest is easy. U Go South Ten Steps.’” And that is the way one United States Geo- detic Survey (U. 8. G. S.) marker got dug under. The Big Bend of Texas—the country half encircleg by the twisting canyon of the Rio Grande for hundreds of miles below El Paso— is just as good for prospectors as Arizona. The Chihuahua Trail, over which millions of dollars in gold and silver were once hauled, traversed the Big Bend. Not all this money that started across arrived at its destination. Besides, while looking through this wide and wild region for any one of dozens of hidden treasures one might run smack into the great Nigger Mine, so long lost. Some years ago John Humphries was a cow- man in the Big Bend below Marfa. One time when he was hunting cattle over in Mexico an old Mexican to whom he had given a few cartridges or some such trifle asked him if he knew a certain mountain a day's ride across the Rio Grande. ¥ THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JUNE 21, 1931 “He Finally Managed to Overbalance the Boulder.” “Yes,” Humphreys replied, “I know the mountain. I have ridden over it and all around it. Last Fall I killed a panther in the canyon just west of it.” “Well,” said the Mexican, “I wish I could ride over the mountain as you say you have ridden. I should see something that you have evidently not seen. Why should I not tell you? I myself am afraid to go back into Texas. You nesd not ask why. The knowledge I have does no man any good. You are my friend. I tell you something. “Listen! Mucho tiempo pasado when the King of Spain owned all this world, a little escuadron of his troops were going from the western mines to Vera Cruz. They were trav- eling along the old Indian trail that passes through the Sierra Vieja when Apaches way- laid them. They made a stand, killed one Indian and drove the others off. “But the Espanoles knew that the Apaches would come back with more warriors. They knew that they must ride fast. With them they had 13 muleskins of gold. They must leave it. They looked for a good place to hide it. " SCOUT quickly brought word that there was & fine place on the mountain. They took up the pack mules loaded with the gold and found themselves on a wide flat rock. Down in the flat rock was a deep hole. They put the muleskins in that hole. Then they put the dead Apache on top of the muleskins—for a patron, you know. Then they rolled a great round bowlder so that it would cover the hole. “No Espanol ever came back to roll that rock away. The patron is still down in that hole with what he had to guard. It is yours to take.” Humphries heard the story through and con- sidered it “just another Mexican yarn.” 8ix years went by without his giving it a second thought. ‘Then one day his riding took him to the top of the mountain about which the Mexican had told him. His recollection of the yarn was at first rather vague, but it clarified when his eye caught a large bowlder bulging out of a flat rock. “Just for beans,” he decided to investi- gate. The heavy bowlder fitted so firmly into the depression that he could not bulge It. Humphries rode two miles to a fence, took out a picket and dragged it back. Using it as a lever he finally managed to overbalance the bowlder. The hole thus uncovered was only three or four feet deep. Humphries got down in it, and with his bare hands cleaned out gravel and loose stone until his finger nails were worn to the quick. He found what he took to be a human tooth, just one. He quit and went to the ranch. The next day he returned with a pick and a spade and worked some more. The material he dug into seemed to him to have come from the outside. He had no idea how deep the original hole had been. He saw that the shortest way to clean it out would be to use dynamite. Accordingly, he went to Marfa after dynamite. Now the Madero revolution in Mexico was going on at this time and United States officers were keeping a strict watch over all arms, ammu- nition, etc., purchased along the border. When Humphries went to buy the dynamite he was closely questioned as to what he was going to do with it. He was truthful as well as secret. He refused to talk and the dealer refused to sell. Humphries gave up all plans for immediately dynamiting the hole. He did not propose to get down inside of it and work for days “like a Tonk.” He wanted no partners. The revolution dragged on for 10 years, with guards viligant along the border. For that matter a detach- ment of troops is still stationed at Marfa. In the meantime Humphries went to Canada. He is still there, and nearly every night, he says in a letter, he dreams of the mountain and the 13 muleskins of gold. Some manana he intends to return to the Big Bend and dynamite that hole. But, shucks, if anybody wants to dig—and all of us are at heart Coronado’s own true children—there is no reason why he should have to follow a vision or a star across half the continent. After pursuing the gleam clear around the world Sir Launfel came home, and | P “The Grail in my castle here is found!” Why should I hie me to Arizona or the Big Bend? My neighbor, just a couple of eounties east of me, thinks that a man who sets him- self up as & historfan of hidden treasures should surely know something about the mule load of stuff that evades him. I am often impressed with my own ignorance. N the Bragos River, near the town of Cald- well, is a plantation of rich bottom land that has for the last 25 or 30 years been managed by a Mr. Fields. Before he took charge of the plantation it was owned and run by one Williams. Willlams had accumulated a great deal of money; he lived during a time when there was money in cotton. He did not patronize banks. One day he sent all the Negroes away from the house except one. Then he and this Negro loaded a mule with a bag that their combined strength could hardly lift. The mule was led some distance into a grove of post oaks and there unloaded. Then the Negro was sent to a distant field with the mule. The Negro was human, and therefore curious. Hence, a few days later, at the very earliest opportunity he had, he stole out into the post oaks to see what had become of the bag. He could not find it. However, he saw that a lot of logs and dead brush had been burned so as to cover a considerable space with ashes. Not a great while after this Williams died, leaving an only daughter, but no will or statement re- garding his money. The daughter knew that her father possessed a great deal of money; she found about $100 in the house—no more. Shortly after her father's death she moved away. Ever since that time diggers have been at work in the post oaks. They are still dig- ging. There are many post oaks in the country, but Mr. Pields is willing to show “the proper parties” a certain grove. Just about as often as I wonder why some people spend so much time digging I wonder why some others don't dig more. For some years I have known J. E. Lutz of Vernon, Tex., as an old stage driver full of all kinds of lore about pioneer conditions. Now it develops that he knows more than any one else about the much-talked-of and much-hunted-for Spanish mine in Devil’s Canyon. Devil's Canyon is in the Navajo Mountains of Southwestern Okla- homa. Along in the '80's J. E. Lutz was drive ing stages in the Fort Sill country. In 1886, while he was at Doan’s Crossing on Red River, made famous by the trail that so many Texas longhorns followed up, he met an old, old Mexican. This Mexican told him that he was the son of the only survivor of 450 Spaniards killed by Indians at their mines near Devil's Canyon. Lutz was interested—even though a squatter had not yet arrived to plow up an acre of skeletons at the mouth of Devil's Canyon and thus make the tradition famous. The Mexican said that pack trains used to bring corn into the Navajo Mountains and go out with gold and silver. He claimed to know the place where the corn had been stored. “We found,” says Lutz, “‘pits 10 feet deep and six or seven feet across. They were in a cave. The ground about them was littered with pot- tery such as is still used in Mexico. The old Mexican had a map showing the mines to be not far off. It was on parchment and sure enough ancient. For some reason, however, the Mexican did not want to go to the mines just then. He said that he must go immediately to Santa Fe. He let me copy the map and left. I never saw him again; he probably died within & short time. s “I took my copy and by means of it located, without a doubt, the mines. I suppose I am the only living man who can go to them. I saw that to develop these mines more capital than I had would be requited. I decided to wait. In 1900 I entered into a verbal contract with a syndicate having headquarters in New York City, the agreement being that I should have a 10 per cent royalty on the output. Assays had been made showing a run of $15 gold to the ton of ore, mix=d with 3 per cent of copper. It was claimed that the copper would pay for the milling. IIWELL, the syndicate sent a man by the name of Gleason to locate a mill site. We were out several days, all of them cold and wet. What sleeping we did was in wet blankets. The morning after we got back to town Gleason took down with pneumonia. A week later he died. I wired the syndicate of his death. They wired me that they were sorry and for me to send them immediately a drawing showing the location of the mill site. “This I refused to do, and they threatened to sue me. I told them I did not like the cold- blooded manner in which they treated the- death of Gleason, and that if they got the chance I knew they would treat me in the same manner. Within a year they quit writing and I have heard nothing from them since. “One of the assays was sent to Washington. The Congressman from my district at the time was John H. Stevens. The assayer went to Stevens and asked if he knew me. Stevens replied that he did. Then the assayer told him that he should get hold of me, for I had sent "in the richest placer mine sample he had ever assayed. Stevens came to me, told ma all this and wanted to go in with me to work the mine. He could not raise the necessary money, however, and so I refused to enter into a partnership. I have been in no hurry. I am still looking for capital to develop the mine.” Occasionally it is refreshing to receive a letter that does not have to be replied to with “I don't know.” A delightful example from Mrs. Alice M. Elliott of Irving, Tex., furnishes the tale to close this string woven for me by Coronado’s children. “The other day an old fellow named Goss came out from Dallas to our farm to prospect. He had with him his son and another associate. After measuring around a while with rods and chains and watching a kind of cylinder with a string attached to it gyrate over two or three spots, Mr. Goss sat down on the gallery to rest and talk. 3 “For years this man has searched here and there, finding—he claims—two small amounts of money and Suffering many disappointments, either because some one else got to the money before he arrived or because the charts were incorrect, or the ‘keys’ had been destroyed. He never gives up hope, however. (Copyright, 1931, by J. Prank Dobie.)