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Found in an Ant-Hill 
An Adventure in Arizona te 
“FORTUNES are made in the West in strange 
ways. The main thing is to get a start. Witha 
few thousand dollars a man may do almost 
anything if he is shrewd, but he must be in- 
dustrious and have good judgment. 
“The cash for a start is frequently made by 
some lucky accident. Of the men who come 
West, bringing money to put into business, five 
out of every six lose all they bring within two 
years; at least, that is the way it has been for 
the last twenty years. After they lose, if they 
have resolution and persistence, they may make 
a start, and in ten years become wealthy. I 
know several such instances.”’ 
As the speaker was well known to be 
this himself, I felt interested in 
down the curious story of adventure which he 
related to a little party as our train sped south- 
ward from El] Paso to Chihuahua. 
“In 1868,” he continued, “I was engineer and 
fireman, too, for the people who were operating 
a mine away up in the Mogollon Mountains, 
above Florence, Ariz. They called it the Twin 
Mesa Mine, from two round-topped hills on the 
slope of one of which the mine was located 
There was no railroad then; but they had hauled 
a four-stamp mill and boiler up there with 
one of 
class 

mules, and were trying to crush some pretty 
good quartz, for silver. 
“TI was twenty years old, fresh from Iowa, 
and could find nothing better to do than to put 
grease-wood under the boiler of this corpora- 
tion, and try to make Le;einetaces L 

steam fron 
was expected to help cut the grease-wood, up a 
creek above the mill, and risk my scalp every 
day; for Apaches were roaming about, and every 
man of us kept a gun handy. The mine had 
lost six or seven by these Indians. It was un- 
safe to stir out without a strong convoy of 
troops or frontiersmen. The expenses of work- 
ing were excessive on that account; so that, al- 
though there was good ore in the lead, the mine 
did not pay, and was abandoned after eighteen 
months. 
“About six weeks before word came to, stop 
work, I made alittle discovery. The hillside 
north of the mill sheds was of a kind of reddish 
loam or gravel, packed hard, with here and 
there the ragged points of ledges protruding 
through it; while scattered over the hill were 
yunches of cactus and occasionally a thorn-bush, 
and among the cactus and thorn-bushes were 
ozens of ant-hills, each about the size and 
shape of a bushel basket turned bottom up, 
though some were much larger. 
“I was out there one day, not more than a 
hundred and fifty yards from the mill, and had 
sat down beside a bush to look around and rest 
a bit, when I happened. to notice a little clear 
yellowish stone in one of these ant-hills, into 
which I had thrust the stock of my gun. I 
picked up the stone, for it looked rather pretty, 
I thought, and examined it. I had no idea what 
it was then, but thought it a beautiful object 
and fancied-that it might have some value. It 
was about the size of a plum-stone, and shone 



noting . 
By FRANK H. SWEET 
with a tawny kind of brilliancy. I had a dim 
recollection of seeing such a stone in a brooch, 
worn by a wealthy lady whom I had met in’ 
Iowa; but I had no great faith that this stone 
had any value. However, I poked over the ant- 
hill and found another, and then found two 
others of fair size in another ant-hill close by it. 
There were also bits of pale blue stones which I 
afterward learned were turquoises. 
“Apparently the ants had worked these stones 
upward from the ground beneath, it may be 
from a considerable depth; for the whole slope 
was honeycombed by their tunnels and _ pas- 
sages. They had brought out cartloads of dirt 
and gravel. I did not show the stones or say 
anything about them to the other men at the 
mill, partly because I had some little hope that 
they might be valuable, and partly because I did 
not like to be laughed at for my ignorance; but 
I kept them in my pocket, and after the mine 
was abandoned-and we had all gone to Tucson, 
I showed one of the stones to an old German 
jeweler who kept a shop there, and asked him 
how much he would give me for it. He ex- 
amined it a long while and tried to.find out 
what I thought it was, where I got it, and so 
on, but I laughed and kept still. At last he 
made an offer of three dollars for it. I knew 
then that the stone had some real value, and 
putting it in my pocket, went to another shop; 
in fact, I offered it in several places, and an 
army captain told me, later in the day, that the 
stone was a topaz. ‘He was of the opinion that 
so fine a topaz was worth from thirty to fifty 
dollars in New York city. 
“Two months afterward I sold three of the 
stones for seventy-five dollars in Santa Fe, and 
I then resolved to go back to the mine and ex- 
amine the ants’ nests. I considered the plan 
for some weeks. At first I thought of taking a 
party with me, but finally decided to go alone, 
although the presence of the Apaches in the 
mountains made prospecting dangerous. From 
the Top-Knot Mine, where I finally outfitted 
for my start, the distance was about forty miles. 
I made it in two nights’ travel, with thirty 
nounds’ weight of ham and hardtack on my 
back. I carried a coarse sieve, a navy pistol and 
a Sharps rifle. 
“The people at the Top-Knot thought I was 
starting on a general prospecting trip, and they 
made bets of three to one that the Apaches 
would get me. 
“The trail over which the ‘mine machinery 
had been hauled to the Twin Mesa was easily 
followed. but I found that the Indians had 
burned the mill. As I looked about the scene 
of my former labors the place wore a very deso- 
late aspect in the chilly gray of that early Sep- 
tember morning. The battery of stamps had 
fallen over and the tubular end of the boiler, 
which had heen shored up on blocks, had settled 
down the hillside, leaving the fire-box end tilted 
almost upright. I looked down into the fire- 
box, where I had formerly thrown so many six- 
foot logs of mesquite. The furnace door was 
now rusty and creaked dismally on its hinges. 
The interior of an old fire-box is not,an invit- 
ing place, but I had often been inside this one, 
and it now occurred to me, since there was no, 
other cuddy, that I might put my provisions in 
it to keep them from the ants, and perhaps rig 
up a wicky for myself nearby. 
“With this in view I laid down my gun. 
Then, unstrapping my heavy pack, lowered it 
into the fire-box. © It slid down upon the mass 
of old ashes, the ham upon the hard bread. As 
it was now out of my reach, I got in myself, to 
arrange my improvised pantry a litle more to 
my liking. I had been in there out of sight 
for about a minute when I was startled—and you 
can imagine, gentlemen, how much startled—to 
hear a gruff ‘How!’ apparently close beside the 
old boiler. I was so much surprised that I 
popped my head out without stopping to think, 
and there I saw two Apaches standing within 
twenty feet of the old boiler-head. They had 
picked up my gun, and were laughing at my 
predicament. 
“Very likely my astonished and _ terrified 
countenance was quite sufficient to excite their 
mirth. They were sure they had me caught, 
and it was plain that they intended to amuse 
themselves at my expense. These two Apaches 
had been camping for the night with a band of 
stolen horses among the bushes on the creek 
a few steps further up the hollow. .I suppose 
they had heard the creaking of the old furnace 
door and had stolen upon me the moment they 
saw me get into the fire-box. 
“I knew they would show me no mercy, and 
I had no doubt that my last hour had come, yet 
the situation was not quite so bad as it ap- 
peared, for my six-shooter was still in my belt, 
and as only my head was out of the door-hole, 
I could draw the revolver without being seen. 
I have no doubt that I looked frightened. Both 
the savages had guns. They did not point them 
at me, however, but stood and laughed, ex- 
claiming, ‘Ho! ho!’ and How do, brodder?’ for 
they understood a good many English words. 
““Ho, brodder, come out!’ said one of them, 
straightening his painted visage at last. 
“Collecting my scattered wits a little, I shook 
my head, dejectedly. Then they laughed again, 
and the ,other said, ‘No tira! No shoot! No 
hurt brodder. Brodder come out.’ 
The Indians were hideously painted, and 
looked to ‘me very large. I was somewhat 
boyish in appearance at that time and very 
badly frightened, so that they enjoyed my looks 
of terror exceedingly. I thought they would 
burst with laughter. It was the fun of the cat 
with the mouse. I knew enough of their cruelty 
to be perfectly certain that, if I should attempt 
to clamber out. they would shoot me before my 
feet. touched the ground outside. My only 
chance lay in using my revolver before they dis- 
covered that I had one. It was my life or theirs, 
as I knew from the outset. I parleyed a little, 
trying to summon all my nerve for quick work 
when.the moment came for it. 


