During the spring of ’60, two mining companies were at war about their locations, and one company threatened the other with an injunction. There had been considerable talk among members of the threatened company about this injunction being put on their claim. Two green Irishmen of the company, who heard this, and who were at work on the claim, concluded that they would keep a bright lookout for this injunction. They had no idea what it was like, but if anything of the kind was going to be put upon their claim they’d see about it. Every day they kept a bright eye open for the injunction, but saw nothing stuck up anywhere about their claim that looked like one.
About this time, however, it so happened that a party of surveyors were engaged in running out a road in that neighborhood. The surveyors arrived at the disputed claim just at noon, and, leaving their theodolite standing on the line they were running, went into town to get dinner. Pat and Mike were also away at dinner, but got back to their claim before the party of surveyors returned. It so chanced that the theodolite had been left standing on the bank immediately above the cut in which the two sons of Erin had been at work. The first thing that caught the eye of Pat and Mike, was the large and costly instrument, standing on the bank, as though on guard over the cut in which they had been working.
“By the powers ’o war, Pat!” cries Mike, “what divilish thing is that, standing there on its three legs?”
“It looks like some quare kind of patent invintion,” said Pat, “wid all of its brass muzzles and stop-cocks. What would it be, anyhow?”
“Well, now,” said Mike, “I wondther if it isn’t the thaving injunction thim rascally divils over beyant have been swearin’ they’d put upon the claim?”
“By the sivin churches, ye’ve said it!” yelled Pat. “Let’s afther it!”
BUSTIN’ THE INJUNCTION.
With this, one seized a pick, the other a crowbar, and rushing upon the theodolite they smashed it into a hundred pieces, crying—“This for all of yer infernal injunctions!” Pat flung one leg of the instrument as far as he could send it, yelling: “To the divil wid all injunctions!” Mike sent another whirling down the hill, shouting: “Bring on yer injunctions, we’re the lads that can knock the stuffin’ out of the best and the biggest of thim!” Just as the pair had succeeded in “bustin’ up the injunction” the party of surveyors returned. The interview between them and the two Irishmen was short, but, as Pat afterwards acknowledged, it was “mighty improvin.”
The newcomers who swarmed across the Sierras spread along the Comstock range for miles, pitching their tents and establishing their camps wherever wood and water were to be found. Having thus established their headquarters they scouted out on prospecting expeditions in all directions among the hills. In places on the ravines and in the flats, where good water and some grass were to be found, there were to be seen considerable villages of tents and brush shanties.