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** Lost Gold At The Dead Man's Mine ** A Miners Journal **


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  SEPTEMBER 10   1936

   This morning the smoke was worse. I was unsure as to what would happen now. I had one more place I wanted to go out to with Whiskey Jack in case we were forced to leave. I wanted to know more about the Eastern Drift Mine. So after breakfast I told Jacob and Will to stick at camp and me, John, and Jack drove the truck out to the drift mine. I asked Jack more about the operation that took place there all those years ago. 

   Jack said the old crew had hydraulicked some of that area but had water delivery issues. There was another mine out across a ravine that was also using the water and there had been some issues. He said that their crew had gotten the short end of the stick and ran out of water mid Summer. That’s when they started digging the drift into the mountain. I told him how I’d tested gravels and found good gold. He agreed and he said that it would be a good place to mine. He said that the old channel went way north from here and there was lots of gold in it. He advised me to put the crew out here digging when I felt the time was right. He said he was sure we would be successful. John and me thanked him and we drove back to camp and Jack stood watch at his post.

   What happened next is something I don’t even want to write down here but I will. John and me were digging and late morning we heard Whiskey Jack’s rifle firing off warning or help needed shots. We climbed out of the pit on a dead run and Will killed the pumps as he went down the mountain. Jacob had already shut down and was bent over Jack. I could hear Whiskey Jack hollering in pain saying he was snake bit and a goner. Jacob said Jack told him he’d dropped a cup on the other side of a log and he bent down to get it and didn’t see the rattler. It had struck him in the face.

   I told John and Jacob to help him to my truck and I jumped in. John and Will stayed at camp while we drove Jack to town. He was already having trouble breathing and I told him to hang on and the doctor would help him. He was moaning and by the time we got into town he wasn’t moving. We carried him into the doctor's office and he checked him. The doctor just shook his head and said he was sorry. His air passages had closed up and he had a heart attack. Whiskey Jack was dead. 

   We told the doctor everything we knew about him which wasn’t much and left our names and addresses and where we were working if they needed to get ahold of us. Jacob was crying and I was in shock. When we got back to camp we had to give Will and John the bad news and they felt as bad as could be. None of us wanted to work and we just sat around for a while talking. Eventually we pulled out one of Jack’s bottles and started doing toasts to his memory. We were remembering all the times we had together here on the mine and all the help he had given us.We couldn’t believe Jack was gone. I think I got drunker that night than I’ve ever been. 

   TO BE CONTINUED .................

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Never saw that coming especially being bit on the face. Poor Jack, what a lousy way to go.

I knew a guy in Arizona that was bit between the thumb and forefinger when he was lifting some pieces of plywood from the ground. The doctors did a debridement of the wound where they had to cut out all the dead flesh. He healed but the flesh never did grow back but at least he didn't end up like poor old Jack.

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A sad day indeed.  Somehow I'd had a hunch Whiskey Jack's beverage intake was going to make him the unfortunate miner.  What a way to go out.  Maybe that dropped cup was full of Whiskey.  One can only hope he went out with a sip of his favorite beverage on his lips!  Boy, you can't make this story up!!

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