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Updated: June 7, 2025
"No, gentlemen," he continued gloomily, "I don't say what I'm back in Washington FOR I don't say what I've been sayin' to myself when I've bin picking the weevils outer my biscuits in Libby Prison but ef you don't see some pretty big men in the War Department obliged to climb down in the next few days, my name ain't Jim Hooker, of Hooker, Meacham & Co., Army Beef Contractors, and the man who saved the fight at Gray Oaks!"
Not a year before he had come over the Globe trail in pursuit of Slogger Meacham, and had discovered the Place of Death. It rose before him now, a solid black wall, and within its shadow lay the mine of the prophecy, the precious Silver Treasure. He had chosen the silver treasure, and the yellow chalcopyrites had added its wealth of copper.
Accordingly in February a commission was appointed consisting of A. B. Meacham, Jesse Applegate, and S. Case. The commission arrived at headquarters towards the last of February.
And if hints and winks count for anything with him he knows who it was that killed Meacham. He says he was hit from behind. I've tried everything, Denver, to make that Dutchman talk or put something down on paper; but he's scared so bad of Murray, and mebbe of his gun-men, that he won't say a word, unless he's drunk.
And a tragedy, in that from first to last the war had cost the lives of nearly four hundred men and about five millions of dollars. The foregoing pages describe in simple language what I saw of the Modoc war. Several so-called histories have been written purporting to be true histories. One by A. B. Meacham in his "Wigwam and Warpath."
But Denver was driving himself to the limit, blasting out ore that grew richer each day; and at thought of Bible-Back Murray, waiting to pounce upon his mine, he sent back a reluctant refusal. Yet they published his name, with the partner's place left vacant, and advertised that he would participate; for on the Fourth of July, with Slogger Meacham for a partner, he had won the title of champion.
Miss Sessions made haste to form an alliance with the young man for the special upliftment of Johnnie Consadine. She would have greatly preferred to interest him in Mandy Meacham, but beggars can not be choosers, and she took what she could get. "Whom have we here?" demanded the lady from London, leaning across and peering at Johnnie with friendly, near-sighted eyes.
He was a hard, hairy man, with grim, deep-set eyes and a jaw that jutted out like a crag and as he raised his hammer to strike Denver saw that he was out to win. "Go!" called the umpire and the hammer smote the drill-head till it made the blue granite smoke; and then for thirty seconds he flailed away while Slogger Meacham turned the short starter-drill.
What hath come upon thee?" Again it was the voice of the shrill Elder. "Judge me by the truth I speak," he answered. "Save in these things my life has been an unclasped book for all to read." "Speak to the charge of brawling and drink, David," rejoined the little Elder Meacham with the high collar and gaze upon the ceiling. "Shall I not speak when I am moved?
He laid down his own papers instead, and with them a $10 bill. "There," he said; "I find that's all the money I have with me, but it's enough to bind the bargain. I left a couple hundred with the clerk at the tavern. I'll go right up and git it, and we'll settle the thing right here." "Very good," replied Bat Meacham; "git back as quick as you kin.
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