Lost Mines in Arizona - Campfire Tales from 1906

Old Bookaroo

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Dec 4, 2008
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Lost Mines in Arizona
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Arizona has no more beautiful legends and traditions than that of lost mines. There are many pretty songs and stories handed down from the early pioneer settlements, but the deepest interest is only fathomed in the songs and stories of lost bonanzas, the prospector and discover of which were either killed by Indians or perished amid the horrors of the desert, leaving the identical place of discovery for future generations to find. The present expedition, however, must not be confounded with the stories of other lost mines in Arizona, for these cannot be enumerated on the digits of the two hands, but if Mr. Hilty is successful in his quest for lost and hidden gold, it will be purely original and at first hand.

There is no doubt as to the wonderful and surprising richness of the big boulder of ore which had become detached from its mother holdings and which the two lucky prospectors so fortunately found. But this was the only successful discovery made by the two men on that prospecting occasion, and they turned their faces inland until some further opportunity for presented itself for a renewal of explorations. Mr. Hilty is the only one of the two partners of the old days left, and after these long years of waiting and watching have fled, he has resumed the search alone. The subject of lost mines is wide and full of the glitter and golden hue of wealth, and to sit around the campfires and hear the old-timers and frontiersman relate their sensational features, their narrations are so vivid and lifelike, it seems that the yellow gold could be hand by the reaching forth of the hand and grasping it.

A strange and pathetic story is that of the Lost Dutchman Mine, which, as the story is related, is situated somewhere in the Bradshaw mountains, Yavapai County. In the early sixties Henry Youngblood came to this country to seek his fortune, leaving his wife and children on a Missouri farm. His health began to fail soon after his arrival, and to make matters worse came distressing news from home, for, to make the journey to the gold fields he had borrowed money from a rich neighbor, in former day san unsuccessful suitor for his wife’s hand. The wife wrote that their creditor threatened to foreclose his loan drive her and her children from home. The news made Youngblood desperate. He sold a portion of his scanty belongings, exchanged the money for provisions and set out alone for the mountains. He was sick unto death, but desperation nerved him on. He reached the mountains and began prospecting on unbroken ground, but day after day disappointment attended his efforts. In a shaort [sic] time his provisions were gone, and he now saw that only starvation or retreat lay before him. One weary day sundown found him sitting on a heap of dirt at the base of a great rock. He was sorrowful and hungry, and weariness and the cold winds oppressed him. Then came a discovery such as is seldom heard of outside the annals of romance. What was that he saw in the rock upon which he was sitting? Gold? Not quartz nor glance but virgin ore. The vein was as broad as his hand in the middle and dwindled away in wavering lines a yard in length. He sprang up and set to work with feverish energy and the strength of a giant. It was a bright moonlight night, and he labored without pause until sunrise. When morning came he had mined more ore than he could carry away with him. He saw clearly that the vein he had discovered was a true one, and presumably extended a great distance. Within his grasp lay a fortune of millions. He made a careful reckoning of his bearings, staked his claim, concealed all traces of his labors, and collecting as much of the ore as he could carry with him, set out for Prescott, which place he reached in two days. He disposed of his ore and purchased an outfit, an abundance of provisions and a mule, and again set out for the claim. Within a month he had mined enough ore to load a train. Moreover, he had traced the fissure to its origin in the hills and satisfied himself that he was the owner of one of the richest claims in Arizona.

Then a hemorrhage struck him down, and it was a miracle that, blind and struggling, he reached Prescott alive. As soon as he had gained sufficient strength he set out for his home in Missouri. As yet, though eagerly asked and importuned to do so he had refused to reveal the location of his claim. He reached home to find that his wife and children had been driven from their home by the creditor, and died in his wife’s arms. The money he had brought with him from Arizona served to recover the home from which his family had been driven but the secret of the lost vein died with him. No one of the hundreds who have since attempted to search for it has been able to find it.

Another queer story of a lost mine is that of the Lost Gunsight, said to be situated in the high Chiricahua mountains in northwestern Cochise county. Years ago the Apache Indians of the San Carlos reservation and in the American Valley, to the north, told of a wonderful rich gold mine from which their ancestors used to get all the gold they wanted which they used for ornaments, and to barter with the white people. They said no such other mine had ever been discovered, and that beyond San Simon a twenty mile trail began which led high in the mountains to it. But when it came to showing the white man the trail, the Indians were superstitious. At length, however, Josefa, an old Indian woman, consented to pilot the gold hunters there. They fitted out a little company and all started in the best of spirits. Josefa told them that eventually they would find a curious cave in the mountains which had been used as a fortress when the tribes had been pursued by other Indians. They came at length to an old trail and followed it for some distance. In places it was faint and could scarcely be traced. In others it was deep and well worn by torrents from the mountains. But all along, through very ancient, the trail preserved it identify. Finally, however, the old woman became overcome as if by fear, and she refused to go any further. They offered her rewards but these had no effect on her. She was determined to return and nohting [sic] they could say had any influence over her. The gold hunters pursued the search.

They climbed the mountains along the trail and finally found the cave. It was a strange cleft in the side of the gorge, which had a peculiar opening, and, when penetrated, showed various Indians idols and rude earthenware masked by the queer characters of the Indians. The cave was large enough to hold a hundred people, and from its peculiar position, was an impregnable fortress. A little further up the steep mountain they found a huge oak growing in the trail. From its size it was deemed a hundred years old. It had grown up since the early Indians had first worked the old mine. Pieces of quartz were found along the route in which even by the naked eye gold could be seen. They followed the trail, but it finally became so faint, by reason of the torrents on the mountains, and the heavy growth of soap weed and cactus, oak and other trees, that it lost its identity. At length, by much effort, they fund it again, but it again became lost and this occurred so often that they were baffled, and finally gave up the hunt. Numerous other searches have been made for the lost mine, but always fruitless. Some of the samples of ore secured form the Indians assayed as high as $5,000 to the ton.

Traditions and stories have it that somewhere in the Eagle Tail range of mountains the famous Pegleg mine exists, its great wealth of yellow metal undisturbed since its discovery and working more than fifty years ago. Since this almost mythical mine was first discovered many parties have been outfitted for the purpose of rediscovering the lost bonanza. Like most of the old-time mines the Pegleg has a romantic story connected with it. Thirty years ago the house of a business firm in Yuma received nearly $8,000 worth of gold nuggets from two prospectors who had somewhat mysteriously disappeared in the direction of Agua Caliente. They were trailed, however, by three Mexicans who cautiously followed them in a northeasterly direction from hot Springs, but being apprehensive of being followed a retrograde movement was made which brought them face to face with the Mexicans. A return was therefore made to Agua Caliente and preparations ostensibly made for a permanent camp. During the night the two prospectors quietly pulled up stakes and eluded the Mexicans. The pursuers, when they found how they had been beaten, took up the trail again and followed it to a point in the mountains where the prospectors had separated, each taking a different direction. The Mexicans became disgusted and returned to Yuma. Nothing further was heard of the prospectors or their rich find until early in 1889. During the excitement resulting from the discovery of the Golden Eagle and Bondage mining claims a Mexican outfitted for a trip, as he stated, to a point in the Eagle Trail range of mountains, about thirty miles southeasterly from Harrisburg. The story he told was to the effect that when about twelve years ago he had run away from home, and while roaming around [he had] met two men with a pack train of three burros in camp. He joined forces with them and acted as cook when a permanent camp was made. Each morning the men went further into the mountains returning in the evening with something in baking powder cans. The boy’s curiosity was aroused and one day he opened one of the cans that had been carefully laid away and found that it contained large and small nuggets of shining gold. The day following he trained the two men and found them about a mile from camp, and they were busy in taking out gold. The boy, however, somehow aroused suspicion, for not only were the cans of gold deposited where he never found them again but the kindness with which he had been previously treated gave place to harshness. This developed into positive cruelty, and so one morning the Mexican boy packed up his blankets and, covering his tracks as he went, after three days and two nights, he arrived, footsore and weary at Agua Caliente. The Mexican was positive that he could find the former camp, but after continuous search for several days, his party was compelled to own defeat and return to Yuma. During the last twenty years numerous prospectors have at various times penetrated the Eagle Tail range, but without being rewarded by finding the mine. Some few years ago the report was sent out definitely that the mine had been rediscovered, thirty miles or more south of Harqua Hala, but it proved to be a unfounded rumor.

And so on, indefinitely, might the songs and stories of lost mines be sung and told, but none of the lost mines have yet brought joy and gladness to the heart of the gold hunter. Occasionally a find is made, but hope vanished with development. The reputed fabulously rich Lost Square mine of the San FFrancisco [sic] range of mountains was rediscovered a few years ago, but its identify is in dispute. Some mines who have examined it declare it to be nothing but a natural rift in the face of a great wall of rock. But others can see in the cavernous openings in the bluff traces of former gold hunters.


  • The Arizona Republican October 28, 1906 pg. 11
  • Reprinted – without attribution in the Bisbee Daily Review (Bisbee, A.T.) December 02, 1906 pg. 3

Good luck to all,

~The Old Bookaroo
 

Aug 23, 2013
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Hello Bookaroo

Thank you for another fantastic post in keeping what treasure legends are all about. It is always a pleasure reading your posts. You definitely earned a seat by the campfire.:thumbsup:

Corp
 

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Old Bookaroo

Old Bookaroo

Silver Member
Dec 4, 2008
4,318
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CI:

Thank you very much! It's a lot of work - finding the articles, copying them, correcting the transcript, etc.

It's worth it when I read comments such as yours.

Good luck to all,

~The Old Bookaroo
 

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Old Bookaroo

Old Bookaroo

Silver Member
Dec 4, 2008
4,318
3,502
Army of 1:

Thank you for your kind words!

I hope to collect these into a book - my homage to the great treasure writer Ed ("Jesse Ed Rascoe") Bartholomew.

Good luck to all,

~The Old Bookaroo
 

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