As recreation after this trying experience, Higbie took him on a tour, prospecting for the traditional “Cement Mine,” a lost claim where, in a deposit of cement rock, gold nuggets were said to be as thick as raisins in a fruitcake. They did not find the mine, but they visited Mono Lake—that ghastly, lifeless alkali sea among the hills, which in 'Roughing It' he has so vividly pictured. It was good to get away from the stress of things; and they repeated the experiment. They made a walking trip to Yosemite, carrying their packs, camping and fishing in that far, tremendous isolation, which in those days few human beings had ever visited at all. Such trips furnished a delicious respite from the fevered struggle around tunnel and shaft. Amid mountain-peaks and giant forests and by tumbling falls the quest for gold hardly seemed worth while. More than once that summer he went alone into the wilderness to find his balance and to get away entirely from humankind.
XXXVI. LAST MINING DAYS
It was late in July when he wrote:
If I do not forget it, I will send you, per next mail, a pinch of
decom. (decomposed rock) which I pinched with thumb and finger from
Wide West ledge a while ago. Raish and I have secured 200 out of a
company with 400 ft. in it, which perhaps (the ledge, I mean) is a
spur from the W. W.—our shaft is about 100 ft. from the W. W.
shaft. In order to get in, we agreed to sink 30 ft. We have sublet
to another man for 50 ft., and we pay for powder and sharpening
tools.
This was the “Blind Lead” claim of Roughing It, but the episode as set down in that book is somewhat dramatized. It is quite true that he visited and nursed Captain Nye while Higbie was off following the “Cement” 'ignus fatuus' and that the “Wide West” holdings were forfeited through neglect. But if the loss was regarded as a heavy one, the letters fail to show it. It is a matter of dispute to-day whether or not the claim was ever of any value. A well-known California author—[Ella Sterling Cummins, author of The Story of the Files, etc]—declares:
No one need to fear that he ran any chance of being a millionaire
through the “Wide West” mine, for the writer, as a child, played
over that historic spot and saw only a shut-down mill and desolate
hole in the ground to mark the spot where over-hopeful men had sunk
thousands and thousands, that they never recovered.
The “Blind Lead” episode, as related, is presumably a tale of what might have happened—a possibility rather than an actuality. It is vividly true in atmosphere, however, and forms a strong and natural climax for closing the mining episode, while the literary privilege warrants any liberties he may have taken for art's sake.
In reality the close of his mining career was not sudden and spectacular; it was a lingering close, a reluctant and gradual surrender. The “Josh” letters to the Enterprise had awakened at least a measure of interest, and Orion had not failed to identify their author when any promising occasion offered; as a result certain tentative overtures had been made for similar material. Orion eagerly communicated such chances, for the money situation was becoming a desperate one. A letter from the Aurora miner written near the end of July presents the situation very fully. An extract or two will be sufficient:
My debts are greater than I thought for—I bought $25 worth of
clothing and sent $25 to Higbie, in the cement diggings. I owe
about $45 or $50, and have got about $45 in my pocket. But how in
the h—l I am going to live on something over $100 until October or
November is singular. The fact is, I must have something to do, and
that shortly, too.... Now write to the Sacramento Union folks, or
to Marsh, and tell them I'll write as many letters a week as they
want for $10 a week. My board must be paid. Tell them I have
corresponded with the N. Orleans Crescent and other papers—and the
Enterprise.
If they want letters from here—who'll run from morning till night
collecting material cheaper? I'll write a short letter twice a
week, for the present for the 'Age', for $5 per week. Now it has
been a long time since I couldn't make my own living, and it shall
be a long time before I loaf another year.