Campfire Treasure Tales

[bigscoop]

Between the years 1876 through 1891 Joseph Wiley always made his annual spring trip from Arizona into the mountains ranges northwest of Denver, Co. Arriving in Denver with his horse and modest supplies he would then venture into the mountains for the entire summer. Unlike most prospectors, Joseph Wiley didn’t have a claim, instead he was always on the move making certain that he never remained in one place for more then a few days. Nearly every prospector in those mountains knew Joseph and none had a bad word to say about him, though most would agree that he was a rather strange fellow with an obvious gift for finding gold. Each fall when Joseph departed the mountains he always possessed enough gold for a comfortable week in Denver’s finest motels and a comfortable wintering back in Arizona. When asked where he found all his gold Joseph simply replied, “Well, I find it here and there, bust mostly just there.” After hearing this reply so often most everyone simply stopped asking. And so it was that for fifteen straight years Joseph Wiley continued to return to those mountains each and every spring until his unexpected death in the winter of 1891. Another fifty years would pass before anyone discovered the truth about the source of Joseph Wiley’s gold.

In 1946 one of Joseph Wiley’s grandsons decided to tell the truth about his grandfather’s trips into the mountains and the real source of his gold. In a private interview with an area reporter the following truth is what came to light, just as it was told by his grandson;

“My grandfather never found any gold in Colorado, he actually found all his gold here in Arizona.”

“Then why did he go into the Colorado mountains each spring? And why wait fifty years to tell the truth of his fraud?” the reporter asked.

“Grandfather asked that we allow fifty years to pass before telling the truth, in this way none of the Colorado prospectors he knew would still be alive to hear it. This was very important to grandfather. Truth is, each spring my grandfather would return to the mountains of Colorado with a saddlebag full of gold so he could salt the claims of his many friends so that when they died they would each feel as though they had achieved some level of success in their lives. By doing this it also made it possible that each of his friends would get through the winter months without too much difficulty.”

“If this is all true, then where did he find all his gold in Arizona?” the reporter continued.

The grandson simply smiled at the reporter, “Well, he found it here and there, but mostly just there.”

 

[vibes]

Love the story!

 

[spartacus53]

I actually thought this is really an excellent campfire story, surely the best on I have heard as far as treasure is concerned. That being said, would it be OK to tell this story with a ghost in it? I tell you, a ghost will make it killer, killer I tell you.

 

[lastleg]

That's one of the best campfire tales I've ever heard, bigscoop.

 

[stefen]

Bunk..."comfortable week in Denver’s finest motels"

They didn't have motels between the years 1876 through 1891...

So the story, is at best, a tale

 

[bigscoop]

That's one of the best campfire tales I've ever heard, bigscoop.

I love to tell stories. Goes back to when I use to take my two young sons on adventures. I really miss those nights at the campfire now that they're all grown up and they've discovered girls! So I thought I'd just start posting some campfire tales here from time to time whenever the mood to create one strikes me. Sort of helps to keep the treasure hunting fire a flame. Just whipped this one up a bit ago..........................


Enis McFadden's Gold
Enis McFadden was an ill tempered old cuss. Enis was one of those guys who had never met anyone he liked or anyone he trusted. Ask Enis how his day was going and his usual reply was something like, “It was fine until you showed up. Now go away before I shoot you for wasting good air.” In fact, rumors existed that Enis had indeed made a few fellows disappear, on a piece of high ground at the south edge of Enis’s claim there was even three unmarked graves out in the open for everyone to take note of. But of course, none of it could ever be proven, in part because everyone was too afraid of Enis to try. Enis stood six and half feet tall and he weighed as much as half and ox and he was built like one as well. Underneath his thick red beard and brushy eyebrows laid layers of rough skin and a set of piercing green eyes. Around many of the area mining camps it was a common joke that God had decided not give Enis any hair on his head for fear that his entire head would burst into flames when he lost his temper. So it was with good reason that the other miners stayed away from Enis and his claim, digging in the dirt and rock all day was one thing, but being shot and buried in an unmarked grave below a pile of rock and dirt was quite another. And yet, there was little doubt in anyone’s mind that Enis had the best damn claim in the entire region. Only good amounts of color could cause a man to be so nasty that nobody would come around.

On a cool fall day in 1867 a local prospector decided to pay Enis one last visit before the snow started to fly and in doing so he discovered old Enis laying face down in the dirt, his body stiff as a tree. Sure enough, his age had finally taken its toll on the old bastard and now old Enis was dead as door nail. Not knowing what to do, but knowing what it was that he was after, the prospector quickly draped the dead man over the back of his horse and he hurried into town so he might be the first in line to buy old Enis’ rich claim. Five days later, after a long and testing journey out of the mountains with the dead man’s body, Ruben Sholtz got his wish and suddenly he was the proud new owner of a rich gold claim. During the winter months to follow several men tried to buy that claim away from Ruben but there was no way Ruben was going to sell it, surly by the following winter he would be rich enough to sell the claim and move into a new life of luxury. Or at least, that was Ruben’s plan.

But, as so often happened, six years later Ruben was still hunting the source of old Enis’s gold but all he had ever been able to find was mined out holes in the earth. Three times he had tried to sell the claim but after never being able to produce any gold off the claim nobody wanted it anymore. Finally, 1875 Ruben Sholtz died a broke man and his claim was never resold. For the next one hundred years that claim remained untouched, the exact whereabouts of its mountain location no longer even known with any certainty. Then one day in 1975 a hiker stumbled upon what appeared to be a few old graves on a spot of high ground, a week later he reported the find to the authorities and in no time they had him leading them back to the site of the old graves. After much research and record checking they eventually came to the conclusion that the graves were resting on the old McFadden claim and that the bodies in those graves must be the men old Enis had been rumored to have killed. Later that same summer, after the authorities had gotten the proper legal paperwork allowing them to exhume the bodies, it was soon discovered that each of the graves were filled with gold ore. So, the next time you come across an old unmarked grave in the mountains, it just might not be an actual grave at all?

 

[bigscoop]

Bunk..."comfortable week in Denver’s finest motels"

They didn't have motels between the years 1876 through 1891...

So the story, is at best, a tale

Genius! "Yes!"......it is a campfire treasure tale! Wait a minute, come to think of it, that poses a good question. I'm not sure I ever heard a true campfire tale? God, to think after all these years that some of those old timer campfire stories could have been true!

 

[spartacus53]

Bunk..."comfortable week in Denver’s finest motels"

They didn't have motels between the years 1876 through 1891...

So the story, is at best, a tale

Wow, I would have hated to been one of those people that booked into a fantasy hotel. Especially since they were in existence since 1870..

Central City and Black Hawk

Once called the “Richest Square Mile on Earth”, Central City and Black Hawk are two historic old mining towns from the 1870’s that have come alive. Located 34 miles (55km) west of Denver, the two towns offer more than 30 casinos with over 10,000 slot machines, blackjack tables and poker games. In 2009, the stakes in Black Hawk were raised – betting limits are now $100, craps and roulette tables have been added and casinos will be open around the clock. In other words, a fun mountain town just got a lot more fun. The two cities are also known for having some of the best-preserved Victorian architecture in the West. Other attractions include the Teller House Hotel where President Grant once stayed

 

[bigscoop]

This thread is just about good ol, off the top of the head, campfire treasure tales. Just something to have a little creative fun with. So light the imaginary campfire, grab the imaginary marshmallows and sticks, and have a seat on the imaginary log.

And Spart, "yes"....you can even apply bug spray if you want.

 

[bigscoop]

Nuggethead

This here is the story of Nuggethead, or so he was eventually called on account of the huge gold nugget that got pressed into his right eye socket during a mining accident. The way the story went was something like this;

One day three miners were working a deep shaft in the side of a mountain when suddenly and earthquake came upon them that caused the entire shaft to cave in. So bad was the wreckage that it was understandable why everyone assumed that all of the miners had been killed. In fact, the wreckage was so bad it was decided to leave the shaft sealed just at it lay, an appropriate tomb for the three miners who were buried deep inside. “It’s the way they would have wanted it,” one miner proclaimed, “to be left under all that rubble so their souls can continue to search for the mother load.” All agreed it was the right thing to do and so it was that the deep shaft was never reopened. For several months the other miners continued their labors without event but then one night something happened that sent chills rippling through their blood.

His real name had been Thomas Chin, one of the three miners killed when the shaft had collapsed during the earthquake. It was the morning after a bad storm when the stories started to circulate about the ghost of Thomas Chin, the accounts almost identical in every respect:

“I could see the figure of a man moving about in the dark, the hot streaks of bright lightening allowing me to gaze upon the man’s gruesome face and mangled body. But what could not escape my deepest attention was the huge gold nugget protruding from the man’s right eye socket, that man being none other then Thomas Chin.”

“It was Thomas Chin, or what was left of him, his image appearing to float about in the night breeze like a sheet left to air on a clothesline. And in his right eye socket I could see this huge hunk of gold, the flashes from the lightening causing it to light up in the night like a hot summer sun.”

In nearly every case the story was always the same, “Thomas Chin’s ghost has came back to haunt us in the most cruel of ways. Not once did that huge chunk of gold ever fall out.”

 

[spartacus53]

Nuggethead

In nearly every case the story was always the same, “Thomas Chin’s ghost has came back to haunt us in the most cruel of ways. Not once did that huge chunk of gold ever fall out.”

Thanks for that little "nugget", now I'll have to sleep with my light's on

 

[EdleBrock]

Bunk..."comfortable week in Denver’s finest motels"

They didn't have motels between the years 1876 through 1891...

So the story, is at best, a tale

Wow, I would have hated to been one of those people that booked into a fantasy hotel. Especially since they were in existence since 1870..

The key word is "motel" vs "hotel"...motels came about with the advent of the automobile...

Great story just the same...little here little there, but mostly there...lol something my dad would have said.