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THE SUNNY SOUTH
< THIRD <PAGE
&/>e Childerbridg^e Mystery
By GUY BOOTH BY. author of "Th. Nikola,” "The Beautiful White Devil,” Etc.
(Ccp-jrijh 119021
SYNOPSIS OF INSTALLMENT I.—Wil
liam Stmoerton, a successful colonist,
with his two grown up children, have
decided to leave Australia and settle
down in the Old Country. Just before
'heir start the son, Jim, is accosted by a
"swagman" who tells him to inform his
lather tnat Richard Murbrldge will meet
aim in the morning. When Jim delivers
the message, his father seems greatly
agitated, and although no harm comes
°t the meeting with Murbridge, whom
standerton acknowledges having known
in previous years, both Jim and his sister
are rendered very uneasy.
w
iHlLUEKBRIDGE MANOR
is certainly one o£ the
finest mansions in the
County of Mldh.rdshire. it
stands in a finely-timbered
park of about two hun
dred acres, which rises tie-
hind the heuse to a consid
erable elevation. The build
ing itself dates back to
the reign of Good Queen
Bess, and is declared by
competent authorities to
be an excellent example
or the architecture of that period. It is
large, and presents a most imposing ap
pearance as one approaches it by the car
riage drive. The interior is picturesque
in the extreme; the hall is large and
square, panelled with oak, and having a
massive staircase c-f the same wood as-
ctnding from it to a music gallery above,
there are other staircases In various
parts of the building, curious corkscrew
allairs, in ascending which one is in con
tinual danger of knocking one's head
against the celling and corners. There
are long and somewhat dark corridors,
down which it would be almost Impossible
to drive the proverbial coach and four.
There are also numerous secret passages,
and above all a private chapel, connected
with the house by means of a short tun
nel. That such a mansion should be
provided with a family ghost, goes with
out saying, indeed, Childorbridge Manor
is reputed to possess a small army of
them. Elderly gentlemen who carry their
heads under their arms, beautiful women
wno glide down the corridors, weeping as
they go, and last, but not least, a de
formity, invariably dressed in black,
who is much given to sitting on the foot
rails of beds and pointing to the regions
above. So well authenticated are the le
gends of these apparitions, that it would
be almost an impossibility to induce any
man, woman, or child, from the village, to
enter the gates of Childerbridge Manor
after dusk. Servants arrived, were told
tne stories afloat concerning their new
abode, happened to hear the wind sigh
ing round the house on a stormy night,
set their Imaginations to work, and gave
notice of their intention to leave next
morning. "They had seen the White
Lady," they declared, had heard her piti
ful death cry, and vowed that nothing
could induce them to remain in such a
house twenty-four hours longer. In fact,
"As horrible as the Minor House," had
become a popular expression in the neigh-
bornood.
When the Standcrtons reached England
they set to work to discover for them
selves a home of the description they re-
«iuired. They explored the country from
east to west, and from north to south,
but without success. Eventually Childer-
bridge Manor was offered them by an
agent in London, and after they had
spent a considerable portion of their
lime poring over photographs of the lions"
and grounds, they at las* began to think
they hud discovered a place that was
likely to suit them. On a lovely day in
early summer they went down to inspect
It. and were far from being disappointed
in what they saw. When they entered
the gates the park lay before them,
bathed in sunlight, the rooks cawed
lazily in the grand old elms, while the
deer regal ded them from their couches
in the bracken with mild contemplative
eyes. After the scorched up plains of
Australia, the picture was an exccod-
lnglyattractive one. The house itself, as
they soon discovered, required a consid
erable outlay in repairs, but as soon as
that work was accomplished, it would be
as p-rfect a residei ce as any that could
be found. The stables were large enough
to hold half a hundred hors°s, but for
many years had been tenanted only by
rats.
"However, taking one thing with an
other," said Mr. Standerton, after he
had seen everything, and arrived at a
broad and muscular, as become a man
who had lived his life doing hard work
in the open air, his eyes were gray like
his father s, and there was the same
moulding of the mouth and chin, in
fact, he was a young n an with whom,
cne felt at first giance, it would be better
to be on good terms than bad.
One evening, a month or so after their
arrival at the Manor House, Jom was
driving home from the railway station
He had been spending the day in London,
country life to that of town, and inci
dentally that she had been eight years
under her guardian's care. Almost before
they knew where they were they had
reached the crossroads that skirted the
edge of the Park, and were approaching
the Dower House. It was a curious old
building, older, perhaps, than the Manor
House to which it had once belonged. In
front it had a quaint description of court
yard, surrounded by high walls covered
with ivv. A flagged path led from the
ten his visitor’s presence. Then he added
as if to himself:
“No one .who has fallen it has pros
pered. There is a curse upon the place.”
"! sincerely hope not." Jim answered.
"It would he a bad lookout for us if that
were so."
"I beg your pardon," the old man re
turned, for him almost harshly. “1 was
not thinking of what I was saying. I
did not mean, of course, that the curse
would affect your family. There is no
proper unde-standing of the possibilities
of the place, "1 think it will suit us. The
Society of the neighborhood, they tell
me, is good, while the hunting is unde
niable. 1 don't think we shall hotter it."
In this manner it was settled. A con
tract for repairs and decorations was
placed in the hands of a v ell-known
Metrojolitan firm, a vast amount was
spent in furnishing, and in due course
Chllderhridge Manor House was once
more occup’ed. The county immediately
came to call, invitations rained in. and
having been duly inspected and not found
wanting, the newcomers were voted a
decided acquisition to the neighborhood.
William Standerton's wealth was prover
bial. and 'mothers with marriageable
sons and daughters vied with each other
In their attentions. James Standerton.
as I have already said, was a presenta
ble joung man. His hejgnt was some
thing over six feet, his "houlders were
“cAs the dogcart approached them the puppy ran out into the road directly in front of the fast trotting horse"
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Wis. A
Mild cases, not chronic, are often
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gists.
and was anxious to get home in order to
be in time for dinner. His horse was a
magnificent animal, and spun the high
dogeai t along the road at a rattling pace.
When he was scarcely more than'halt a
mile from the lodge gates of his own
home, he became aware of a lady
w’alklng along the footpath in front
of him. Sire was accompanied by
a mastiff puppy, which gambolled
awkwardly beside her. As the dog
cart approached them the puppy ran
out into the road, directly In front of the
fast trotting horse. Experienced whip
though the young man was. the result
was Inevitable. The dog was knocked
flown, and it was only by a miracle that
the horse did not go down also. Jim heard
the girl upon the footpath utter a little
scream, then the groom jumped from, his
seat and ran to the frightened horse's
head. The driver also descended to . s-
certain the extent of injuries the horse
and dog had sustained. Fortunately the
former was unhurt; not so the author of
the mischief, however. He had boon
kicked on the head, and one of his fore
paws was crushed and bleeding.
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”
said Jim, apologetically, to the young
lady, when he had carried her pet to the
footpath. "I am afraid I was very care
less."
“You must not say that," she answered,
“It was not your fault at all. If the silly
dog had not run into the road it would
not have happened. Do you think his leg
is broken?"
Jim knelt on the edge of the path be
side the injured animal and carefully ex
amined his injuries. His bush life had
given him a considerable Insight Into the
science of surgery, and it stood him in
good stead now.
“No,” he said, when his examination
was at an end, “his leg Is not broken,
though. I'm afraid It is badly injured.”
In spite of the young lady's protests he
took his handkerchief from his pocket and
bound up the injured limb. The next thing
to he decided was how to get the animal
home. It could not walk, and it was man
ifestly Impossible that the young lady
should carry him.
‘"Won't you let me put him in the cart
and drive you both home?" Jim asked.
"I should be glad to do so if I may."
As he said this he looked more closely
nt the girl before him. and realized that
she was decidedly pretty.
“I am afraid there is nothing else to
be done,” she replied, and then, as if
she feared this might be considered an
ungracious speech, she added: “But L
fear I am putting you to a great deal of
trouble, Mr. Standerton.”
Jim looked at her in some surprise.
"You know my name, then?" he said.
"As you see." she answered with a smile
nt his astonishment. "I called upon your
sister yesterday. My name Is Decle, and
I live at the Dower House, with my guar
dian, Mr. Abraham Bursfleld."
“In that ease, as we are neighbors.”
said Jim. “i must claim a neighbor's priv
ilege in helping you. Let me put the dog
in the cart.”
So saying he picked the animal up and
tenderly to the dogcart, un
der the seat of which he placed it. He
then mounted to the box and assisted
Miss Deeie to a seat* beside him. When
the groom had taken his place at the back
they set off In the direction of the Dower
House, a curious rambling building, sit
uated in a remote corner of Childerbridge
Park. As they drove along they discussed
the neighborhood, the prospects of the
shooting, and Jim learned among other
things that Miss Deeie was fond of rid
ing. but that old Mr. Bursfleld would not
allow her a horse, that she preferred a
gates, which, Jim discovered later, had ) sort of reason why it should. But the
not been opened for many years, to the
front door, and on either side of the path
was a roughly trimmed lawn. PulHnar
tip at th*: gates, the young man descend
ed, and helped Miss Deeie to alight.
“You must let me carry your dog into
the house for you," he said, and he ac
cordingly lifted the animal out. A little
ptfstem door admitted them to the court
yard, and they made their way, side by
sido, along the flagged patli to the house.
When they had rung the bell the door
was opened to them by an ancient man
servant, whose .age could scarcely have
been less than three score years and ten.
He looked from his mistress to the young
man. as if he were unable to comprehend
tlfi* situation.
“Isaac3," said Miss Dec-ie, "Tory has
met with an accident and Mr. Standerton
has very kindly driven him home. Please
come in, Mr. Standerton, and let me re
lieve you of your burden.”
But Jim would not hear of it. Accom
panied by Miss Detie he carried the ani
mal to tlie loose box in the deserted
s.aldes at the back of the house,’ whore
it had its quarters. This task accomplish
ed they returned to the house.
"1 believe you have not vet met mv
guardian, Mr. Bursfleld,” she said as
they passed along the oak panelled hall.
Then, as if to -excuse the fact that' the
other had not paid the usual neighborly
eall, she added, “He is a very old man
and seldom leaves the house."
As she finished speaking, she paused
before a door, the handle of which she
turned. The room Jim found himself in
a moment later was a fine one. The
walls, like the rest of the house, were
panelled, but owing to the number of
books the room contained, very little of
the oak was visible. There were books
on the shelves, books on the tables, and
books on the tloor. In the center of tht
icom stood a large writing table at which
an old man was seated. He was a strange
looking old fellow; his face was lined with
innumerable wrinkles, while his hair was
snow white and descended to his shoul
ders. He wore a rusty velvet coat and a
skull cap of the same material. He look
ed up as the pair entered, and his glance
tested on James with some surprise.
"Grandfather,” said Miss Deeie, for as
James afterwards discovered, she invari
ably addressed tne venerable gcrdlemiu
by this title, though she was in no way
telated to him, “pray let me introduce
you to Mr. Standerton, who has most
kindly brought poor Tory home for me."
The old man extended a shrivelled
hand.
“I am happy to make your acquaint
ance, sir,” he said, “and I am grateful
to you for the service you have rendered
Miss Deeie. I must apologise for not
having paid you and your father the
customary visit of courtesy, but as you
have perhaps heard I am a recluse and
seldom venture from the house. 1 trust
vou like Childerbridge?”
scries of coincidences, if by such a term
we may designate them, have certainly
been remarkable, Sir Giles Shepfield
purchased it from my father, and was
thrown from hit* horse and killed at his
own front door. His son, Peter, was
found dead in his bed, same say murder
ed, others that lie was frightened to death
by something or some one he had seen;
while his second son. WiiTiam, was shot
in a line! in Paris, the day after the news
reached him that he had com" into the
jffroperty. The Shepfields being only too
anxious to dispose of it. it was sold to
the newly made Lord Childerbridge, w.*o
was eager to acquire it, possibly on ac
count of the name. He remained two
years there, hut at the end of that period
he had had enough of the place, and left
it quite suddenly, vowing that he would
never enter its doors again. They say
he saw something which, for a time,
came near to making him lose his reason.
After that it was occupied off and on by
a variety of tenants, but for the last five
years it has stood >mpty. 1 hear that
your father has worked wonders with it,
and that he has made almost a new place
of it."
“He has had the w *rk done very care
fully.” James replied. "It is very diffi
cult to repair an old mansion like Chil-
drrbridgo without making such repairs too
apparent.”
“I quite agree with you,” said the old
man dryly. “Your modern architect is no
respector of anything antiquated, as a
rule.”
“And now T must bid you good even
ing,” said James. "They will be wonder
ing at home what has become of me."
He shook hands with the old gentle
man. who begged hint to excuse him for
not accompanying him to the door, and
then followed Miss D"cie from the room.
They bade each other adieu at the gate.
“I hope your dog will soon be himself
again,” said Jim. in the hope of being
able to prolong the interview if for only
a few moments. “If you would let me
have him for a few days T would do what
I could for him. and would see that he
was properly looked after.”
“I could r.ot think of giving you so
much trouble.” she said. "He will be all
right here. I feel certain we shall be able
to do all that is necessary. Will you give
my kind regards to your sister? I should
like to tell j on that I admire her verv
much, Mr. Standerton.”
“It Is very good of you to say so," ho
replied. Then, clutching at the hope thus
presented to him. he added: “I tpust
you and she will he great friends."
"I hope so.” said Miss Deeie, and there
upon bade him good-night.
As he went out to his cart he felt con
vinced in his own mind that he had just
parted from the most charming girl he
had ever met in his life. He reflected
upon the matter as he completed the
‘We are delighted with it,” James re- ishort distance that separated him from his
plied. “It is a very beautiful and inter
esting old house. Unfortunately, how
ever, we have been able, to gather very
little of its history. I have heard it said
that you know more about it than any
one in the neighborhood.”
“1 do, indeed,” the old man replied. “No
one knows better than I do. Until a
hundred years ago it was the home of
my own family. My father sold it, re
serving only the Dower House for his
own use. Sinue then the estate has fallen
upon evil times.”
He paused for a moment and sat look
ing into th 5 fireplace, as if he had forgot-
homo, and when be joined his sister in the
drawing room later he questioned her
concerning her new acquaintance.
She must lead a very lonely life,"
said Jim. “I was introduced to the old
gentlemen, she calls grandfather, and if
his society is all she has to depend upon,
then I do not envy her her lot.”
His sister had a suspicion of what was
in his mind, though she did not say so.
Like her brother, she had taken a great
liking to the girl, and there was overy
probubiiitv, as time went on, of thejfi be
coming firm friends.
“It may interest you to hear that slie
is coming to tea with me on Thursday,”
said Alice.
Jim was Interested, and to prove It reg
istered a mental vow that he would make
a point of being at homo that day. As a
matter of facj* he was, and was pven
more impressed than before.
From that day Miss Decle spent a large
proportion of her time at the Manor
House. In less than a month she h?,d
become Alice's own particular friend,
■and Jim felt that the whole current of
his life had been changed for him. What
Mr. Bursfleld thought of it, can be seen
now, but at the time hjs views were
only a matter rff conjecture. l|iat the
young couple had managed to fall in
love witii each other was quite certain,
and that William Standerton approved
of his son’s choice was another point
that admitted of no doubt. Helen Decle,
with her pretty face and charming man
ners. was a young lady whom no one
could help liking. At that stage their
wooing was a matter of fact one in the
extreme. Jim had no rival, and at the
outset no difficulties worth dignifying
with the name. He was permitted unlim
ited opportunities of seeing the object
of his affections and, when the time
was ripe and he Informed her of the
state of his feelings toward her, she
gave him her hand, and promised without
any hysterical fuss to he his wife, with
the full intention of doing her utmost
to make him happy.
“But, Jim." she said, “before you do
anything else you must see grandfather
and obtain his consent. He is my guar
dian, you know, r>hd has been so good
•to me that I can do nothing without his
approval.”
“I will go over tomorrow morning and
see him,” Jim replied. "I fancy I can
tell you what his answer will be. How
could it be otherwise when he knows
that your happiness is at stake?”
"I hope it will be as you say,” she
answered, but not with her usual cheer
fulness. “Somehow or anoth*m grand*-
father always looks at things in a dif
ferent light to any one else."
"You may be sure I will do my best
to get him to look at it as we want
him to," returned her lover.
Needless to say, Mr. Standerton, when
he heard the news, was delighted, while
Alice professed herself overjoyed at the
thought of having Helen for her sister.
In Jim's mind, however, there was the
remembrance of Abraham Bursfleld, and
of the interview that had to be got
through with that gentleman on the mor
row.
"It's no use beating about the bush
or delaying matters." he said to himself.
"Ill walk back with Helen and get it
over tonight."
11c informed his sweetheart of his in
tention. She signified her approval, and
together they strolled aeross the park
toward the little gate that opened into
the grounds of the Dower House. It
was a lovely evening, and as you may
suppose they wore about ns happy a
young couple as could have “been found
in the length and breadth of England.
Their engagement had scarcely com
menced. yet Jim was already "full of
plans for the future.
"1 shall take you fr^n that dreary old
house." he said, nodding his head in the
direction of the building they were ap
proaching. “and we will find a pretty lit
tle place somewhere in the. neighbor
hood. How you have managed to exist
here for eight years I cannot Imagine.”
“It has been dull, certainly,” she. an
swered, "hut I have the house and my
grandfather to look after, so that my
time is fairly well takeij up.”
"You must have felt that you were
buried alive,” he returned, "in the fu
ture, however, we'll change all that.
You shall go where and do just as you
please.”
Sh" shook her head.
"If I can make you happy," she said,
“that will he enough for me.”
(To he Continued.)
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Once Mining Center of Fabulous Wealth,
. Now Crewsome Ghost
By James Jl Hall
I’CKED snugly in a shelter
ed nook of the barren
Rockies, its streets lined
with giant cotton wood
trees and its surrounding
rooky hillsides dotted with
picturesque Mexican huts.
Silver City, New Mexico,
is one of the most at
tractive places to be found
in the southwest. The
town, with its modern
brick blocks, lies In the
bottom of a narrow gorge
and all around the rocky hills rise ridge
above ridge and peak above peak, all
brown, sun-scorched and barren save for
the scattering cactus and sedge brush
On the streets of Silver City you stand
6.000 feet above sea level. Take either
end of Main street, walk until you find
yourself well out of town, and you stand
7.000 feet above tide water. But if you
are a newcomer from lower altitudes
you will find the climb to the city limits
a very uncomfortable task. You will
feel a great weight in your chest and
your heart may start and flutter as it
sometimes does under great excitement.
On top of the first ridge you look away
to the northward where many great
peaks lift their sombre heads to yet
higher altitudes. Their long, silent slopes
are covered with short, straggling pine
trees which present a pleasing contrast
to the barren and jagged mountains you
have looked upon since you crossed the
plains from San Antonio. To me, as I
sat on a ledge of brown, sun-scorched
sandstone in the full glory of a cloudless
day, these long rows of solemn pines
seemed old friends. They were the first
pines I had seen in many a day and I
felt as if the grand old CohuiUt? lay be
fore me. In my childish imagination 1
used to feel that the tops of these north
Georgia mountains marked the boundary
of the world. To me they were always
Nothing Iraped in romance and
Exceeds mystery, and while it
Charm has been my fortune
and Glory since to look upon some
of Geor« of the noblest peaks
gia Moun- in the world whosa
fains heals, like those of
Popocatepetl and his veiled bride,
rest far up in the region of
eternal snow, I have never seen moun
tains invested with the charm and glory
of the Georgia c.ohuttas. But it was not
the mountains I intended to talk about,
but Silver City, once the red hot, rip-
roaring mining camp, now the neat and
attractive brick built town, but still a
mining camp.
To t.ie minor a camp is always a camp,
even Ihough it may acquire a hundred
thousand population and acquire paved
streets ar.d municipal scandals. As we
sat at dinner in a Silver City Chinese
restaurant today two young men across
the table discussed at length the places
recently visited by vhem. and here Is the
way it went:
“John, Silver is the bummest camp I’ve
been ir. since leaving El Altar down on
the greaser side of the line. Now,
take Tucson. that's a dandy
camp. There's something doin’ all tha
time an' they don't play no 2-bit games,
nuther.”
"That's so." replied the other, “but fer
a good live camp I alius liked Denver or
Leadville. Denver gits sorter raw some
times, but she is a good, warm camp all
the same."
Tima was when “Silver,” as this little
city is called, was as full of life—the
grizzly life of the mining region—as any
camp In the west. That was back in the
seventies, when the mines near by were
being worked and silver -was bringing a
good price. Silver City is still a mining
camp. Otherwise it would have no excuse
for remaining on the map. It illustrates
in a most forcible manner the stress un
der which a large community must sus
tain itself in the midst of desert sur
roundings. Everything upon which the
town subsists must come from distant
markets, and living Is therefore very
costly. Butter is 35 cents a pound, eggs
40 cents a dozen, and bread 10 cents a
loaf. No hotel in town serv"s meals.
Everybody eats at the Chinese restau
rants. But it was not always so. There
are several large hotels, and one of these,
the Timmer house, once a magnificent
hostelry, but now half vacant, its state
ly dir.ing room used to store dusty plun
der, tells by its dirt and dilapidation the
pathetic story cf Silver City’s decline.
The Timmer house stands as a monu
ment to the uncertainties of fortune in
the mining regions.
When the mining village first began to
grow in the little nook between the hills,
Louie Timmer, a jolly, fat-faced German,
opened a little hotel in
Princely an old adobe building.
Hostelry His wife was a good cook
Pre> for and worked very hard.
Dust and Louie was a jolly good
Bats fellow and made friends
with everybody. People
came in by hundreds and were willing to
pay all sorts of prices. Money was no
object The little adobe hotel old a tre
mendous business. The camp became n
city. Brick blrcks went up on all sid's.
Timmer bad nearly a hundred thousand
to his credit in the bonks. A fine hotel
was needed. He built the Timmer house
at a cost of $90,000. He fitted It out in
magnificent style. Across the hall from
the office was n large bar room, one side
of which was given up to gambling ta
bles. Every night the hotel was crowd?;!
with gufsts who paid from $7 to $■> per
day. The faro banks and monte games
in the bar room found plenty of patrons,
lxiuie Timmer was making big money
every day. He would go in and play a
game r.ow and then with his friends and
guests. He soon became one of the
heaviest plungers *n town. He lost in
big chunks, the mines played out, guests
owing many hundreds of dollars for
board found themselves unable to pav.
But Timmer could not turn them away.
He knew these men might have plenty
In a week. He allowed them to stay as
long as they wished. New and then some
friend wanted money. If Timmer had it
the friend got U- But luck was against
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the camp. Timmer lost everything, apd,
like hundreds of others once rich, went
cut from Silver City a penniless man.
Fragments of similar wrecks are point
ed out on all sides. Hundreds of men are
said to have made fortunes and lost them.
Some made the money in mines, some in
gambling, but nearly all lost out in the
end.
A gray-haired old miner foTd the follow
ing story to the small group around the
office stove at the Timmer house:
“I came up here to Silver in 1S76. That
was the year Breeman discovered his
mine just over the hill from town. He
called it the Seventy-Six
the mine. Soon after I ime
City Was here a fellow opened a
In big saloon which h" cub
its ed the Centennial saloon.
Flower It was a hundred fe •*
long, but I found it of
ten so packed with miners that it was
impossible to get a drink. Everything
was 25 cents a drink, and that saloon
keeper got rich before he knew it.
“Breeman used to get $2,000 or $3,000 a
year out of the Seventy-Six. He was a
high roller if there ever was one. He
would bet $25,000 at a clip on draw pok»r,
which was the common game then. He
would throw handfuls of silver dollars
to the boys on the street and when the
money piled up on him faster than he
could spend It. he would go to New’ York
and give wine suppers and other blow
outs that knocked them felle.rs back east
as silly as goats. But after it was all
over poor Breeman found himself a pau
per and put an end to his troubles with
a six-shooter at Globe, Ariz.
“Then there was Rogers, who made
$S0,000 in a deal and blew it all in right
now. He and another fellow who had
1 made a strike hired the city brass band
and put in a lot of time marching around
and serenading the town. An opera troune
came along and they bought it out bodily
and had the show run for the benefit of
the public. One man. who made a strike,
hired ten men for a bodyguard and paid
them $1fi a day. He would march his
squad up and down the street until they
got hot and thirsty and then go :n and
set up the drinks. One man went down
to El Paso to have a dentist fix his teeth
and came back $90,000 poorer than he
went. Oh. things were flush then. Peo
ple had money and did not mind spending
it. A true miner never minds spending. It
is these narrow, grasping easterners who
squeeze all the shape out of a dim".
Miners are not made out any such mean
stuff. If we have money we turn It
loose. If we put up our last dollar and
lose it. that 1s all right.”
But there is plenty of evidence in Sil
ver City to show that all miners are not
of the meekly submitting kind. It is said
that Americans are always bad losers.
1'f they make heavy bets and lose they
generally kick and want to fight, but
the Mexican never does. It is said that
fhe Chinaman and the Mexican may gam
ble until the clothes are gone from their
bodies, and yet make no complaint. Sli
ver City, like all other mining town*, la
Continued mm fourth p*gm