dead moral certainty. I own one-eighth of the new
"Monitor Ledge, Clemens Company," and money can't buy a foot of it;
because I know it to contain our fortune. The ledge is six feet
wide, and one needs no glass to see gold and silver in it....

When you and I came out here we did not expect '63 or '64 to find us
rich men--and if that proposition had been made we would have
accepted it gladly. Now, it is made. I am willing, now, that
"Neary's tunnel" or anybody else's tunnel shall succeed. Some of
them may beat us a few months, but we shall be on hand in the
fullness of time, as sure as fate. I would hate to swap chances
with any member of the tribe . . . .

It is the same man who twenty-five years later would fasten his faith and
capital to a type-setting machine and refuse to exchange stock in it,
share for share, with the Mergenthaler linotype. He adds:

But I have struck my tent in Esmeralda, and I care for no mines but
those which I can superintend myself. I am a citizen here now, and
I am satisfied, although Ratio and I are "strapped" and we haven't
three days' rations in the house.... I shall work the "Monitor" and
the other claims with my own hands. I prospected 3/4 of a pound of
"Monitor" yesterday, and Raish reduced it with the blow-pipe, and
got about 10 or 12 cents in gold and silver, besides the other half
of it which we spilt on the floor and didn't get....

I tried to break a handsome chunk from a huge piece of my darling
"Monitor" which we brought from the croppings yesterday, but it all
splintered up, and I send you the scraps. I call that "choice"--any
d---d fool would.

Don't ask if it has been assayed, for it hasn't. It don't need it.
It is simply able to speak for itself. It is six feet wide on top,
and traversed through with veins whose color proclaims their worth.

What the devil does a man want with any more feet when he owns in
the invincible bomb-proof "Monitor"?

There is much more of this, and other such letters, most of them ending
with demands for money. The living, the tools, the blasting-powder, and
the help eat it up faster than Orion's salary can grow.

"Send me $50 or $100, all you can spare; put away $150 subject to my
call--we shall need it soon for the tunnel." The letters are full of
such admonition, and Orion, more insane, if anything, than his brother,
is scraping h