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The miner was making a final effort at his unproductive piece of rock, and had prolonged his toil far into the night. Hour after hour he wrought almost without a moment's respite, save for the purpose, now and then, of trimming his candle. When his right arm grew tired, he passed the hammer swiftly to his left hand, and, turning the borer with his right, continued to work with renewed vigour.
A man's life is in danger, or it may be he is dead; but more likely he is alive. You took a life; perhaps you can save one now. Keeley's Gulch the mine there." "They have found it gold?" asked Grassette, his eyes staring. He was forgetting for a moment where and what he was. "He went to find it, the man whose life is in danger. He had heard from a trapper who had been a miner once.
Plummer had clerks in every institution that was making money, and these kept him posted as to the times when shipments of dust were about to be made; they also told him when any well-staked miner was going out to the States. Plummer's men were posted all along these mountain trails. No one will ever know how many men were killed in all on the Salt Lake trail.
O. H. Miner was Auditor of the State at one time. He was a very good man. His son, Louis Miner, and Harry Dorwin, a nephew of my deceased wife, are joint owners of the Springfield Journal, one of the oldest Republican organs of the State.
He went back to his work on the other side of the river, where his crew was working. He was called home a few weeks later, and he never saw husband or wife again. He learned from Wilber, however, in a short letter that things were going much the same as ever. "Dear Sir: I don't know much about Miner. Hees purty quiet I guess. Dock Moss thinks hees a little off his nut. I don't.
There had been two more telegrams, the previous evening, and a night letter had followed them. To Brenton, however, the particulars seemed glorious rather than reassuring. Instead of the fire stirred with a stick of dynamite, there had been something infinitely more deadly. A careless blast, set off by an inexperienced miner, had brought down a fall of rock where it had been least expected.
The splendid gamester stretched out his black head and hissed at me something liquid and venomous in the sound the long black beak as fine and polished as a case for a girl's penknife. He was game to the core and wild as ever.... Jack hadn't let him die perhaps he felt out of the law because of that. "I'll go and do my chores," Jack Miner said. "You can stay and think it out."
In 1852 Virginia City, Nevada, was the most flourishing of mining towns. A half-crazy miner, named Comstock, had discovered there a vein of such richness that the "Comstock Lode" was presently glutting the mineral markets of the world. Comstock himself got very little out of it, but those who followed him made millions. Miners, speculators, adventurers swarmed in. Every one seemed to have money.
At the same time, such stories as "The Luck of Roaring Camp" and "Tennessee's Partner," not to quote others, prove Bret Harte conceded to the miner, courage, patience, gentleness, generosity and steadfastness in friendship.
"Can't you see, you cuckoo?" a Submarine Miner interrupted. "Crandall goes up to the dormitory as an object-lesson, for moral effect and so forth. Isn't that true, Head Sahib?" "It is. You know too much, Purvis. I licked you for that in '79." "You did, sir, and it's my private belief you chalked the cane." "N-no. But I've a very straight eye. Perhaps that misled you."
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