RUBY FALLS.
RUBY FALLS.
The Robinson mines alluded to, now abandoned so far as productive work is concerned, and generally considered a failure, were called the best mining property in the state only a year ago. They were discovered in 1878, the ore proving to be chiefly galena and iron, with large pockets of rich oxidized ore,—the “mud carbonates” so-called. A year later this mine passed into the possession of a stock company, headed by the late Lieut. Governor George B. Robinson, with a capital of $10,000,000. Extensive and thoroughly constructed tunnels, etc., were begun, which were soon interrupted by litigations out of which grew a small war. In the course of this Governor Robinson was accidentally shot by a guard, in November of 1880. These troubles settled, ore began to be produced in large quantities until the winter of 1882, when work suddenly ceased, the stock of the company fell to nothing, and the report was given out that the mine was a failure.
Moving on down the pleasant valley, whose level bottom is carbonate tinted, not with ore dust, but with an almost continuous thicket of stunted red willows, we pass the Chalk Mountain mines, the Carbonate Hill district, Clinton gulch, where gold ore is alleged to be worth more attention than it is receiving, and so come to Elk mountain and Kokomo, a locality which has had a wonderful history. In the fall of 1880 she had only the “White Quail” mine as a steady producer. A little later the “Aftermath” group came to the front. Now probably not less than fifteen distinct mining claims on Elk mountain are making a steady output of ore. This ore is a hard carbonate, running about twenty-five ounces in silver and twenty-five per cent. in lead, besides a third of an ounce in gold, which is carefully separated at the smelter. Much of it is so admirably constituted that it “smelts itself,”—that is, it requires little or no addition of lead, iron and other accessories to its proper fluxion.
We were told of alluring pictures of mountains and cañons below Kokomo; of timber-belts and pleasant uplands; of green meadows and sparkling streams beloved of trout and bass, and the drinking places of deer in the twilight. But our plan would not permit us to go on to Dillon, the present terminus, much less beyond it. Instead, we must turn back, make a swift run down the Arkansas, and begin our exploration of the great overland route to Utah and the Pacific coast.
I will not detain you with the account of our downward trip, but ask you to suppose us, a few hours after our visit at Robinson and Kokomo, snugly “at home” in the station in Poncho Springs, half a dozen miles west of Salida.