Silver and Gold A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp   By: Dane Coolidge (1873-1940)

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE FIGHTING FOOL:

A Tale of the Western Frontier

Cloth, 12mo. with a wrapper drawn by Edward Borein

$1.75 net

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

NEW YORK

SILVER AND GOLD

A Story of Luck and Love in a Western Mining Camp

by

DANE COOLIDGE

Author of "The Fighting Fool" Etc.

[Illustration]

"Gold is where you find it, and Silver in high places." Miners' Saying .

New York E. P. Dutton & Company 681 Fifth Avenue

Copyright, 1919 By E. P. Dutton & Company All Rights Reserved

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. The Ground Hog 1 II. Big Boy 7 III. Hobo Stuff 16 IV. Cash 23 V. Mother Trigedgo 33 VI. The Oraculum 42 VII. The Eminent Buttinsky 53 VIII. The Silver Treasure 61 IX. Bible Back Murray 72 X. Signs and Omens 81 XI. The Lady of the Sycamores 92 XII. Steel on Steel 100 XIII. Swede Luck 108 XIV. The Strike 119 XV. A Night for Love 128 XVI. A Friend 138 XVII. Broke 147 XVIII. The Hand of Fate 154 XIX. The Man Killer 161 XX. Jumpers and Tenors 170 XXI. Broke Again 180 XXII. The Rock Drilling Contest 189 XXIII. The Heart of his Beloved 200 XXIV. Colonel Dodge 210 XXV. The Answer 219 XXVI. The Course of the Law 231 XXVII. Like a Hog on Ice 238 XXVIII. Parole 245 XXIX. The Interpretation Thereof 251

SILVER AND GOLD

THE PROPHECY

"You will make a long journey to the West and there, within the shadow of a Place of Death, you will find two treasures, one of Silver and the other of Gold. Choose well between them and both shall be Yours, but if you choose unwisely you will lose them Both and suffer a great disgrace. You will fall in love with a beautiful woman who is an artist, but beware how you reveal your affection or she will confer her hand upon Another. Courage and constancy will attend you through life but in the end will prove your undoing, for you will meet your death at the hands of your Dearest Friend."

SILVER AND GOLD

CHAPTER I

THE GROUND HOG

The day had dawned on the summit of Apache Leap and a golden eagle, wheeling high above the crags, flashed back the fire of the sun from his wings; but in the valley below where old Pinal lay sleeping the heat had not begun. A cool wind drew down from the black mouth of Queen Creek Canyon, stirring the listless leaves of the willows, and the shadow of the great cliff fell like a soothing hand on the deserted town at its base. In the brief freshness of the morning there was a smell of flaunting green from the sycamores along the creek, and the tang of greasewood from the ridges; and then, from the chimney of a massive stone house, there came the odor of smoke. A coffee mill began to purr from the kitchen behind and a voice shouted a summons to breakfast, but the hobo miner who lay sprawling in his blankets did not answer the peremptory call. He raised his great head, turned his pig eyes toward the house, then covered his face from the flies.