Jeff and weekender ; didn't mean to leave you hanging so long to end this quest but we had a family crisis as the only brother of the six children past away recently. It has been a difficult time for his sisters. I am telling this as it was told to me by them because I was to young to be there when it happened. Being careful not to disturb the original signs blasting began once again on the mountain where it had started over 50 years before. The shaft began to take shape as the blasting broke up the thick layer of rocks. They had worked hard that first day and at about four or five feet decided to return home to rest and come back early the next day. The next day started with high spirits as they resumed removing dirt and rocks with shovel and buckets. As the shaft began to get deeper the ground began to shake when a car would go over the road above them. Grandpa began to get concerned since the opening was now well over their heads. After taking a break for lunch one of the sons in law took a turn in the bottom of the shaft. At about this same time a car went over the highway, the ground began to shake and rocks and dirt started falling into the hole on top of the son in law. They got him out with just a few bruises, but it scared grandpa enough that he stopped the digging and with a heavy heart they packed up and went home determined to try another way soon. Life has it's own agenda and our reason for searching was abruptly halted as a few days later grandpa had a heart attack while working in his garden. Grandpa was strong willed and survived the heart attack but his body would never again let him walk the hills and mountains of the Arkansas that he loved. The children went their own ways, raising their kids and living normal lives for several months and except for an occasional family outing in the mountains ,nothing much was said. It was one of these times as the youngest daughter and her husband drove their two young grandsons through the beautiful mountains of the Ozarks when a young boys voiced called out from the back seat. "Stop. I see a poodle!" the brakes went on, the doors flew open and so did another chapter in our hunt for Spanish treasure. There is an ending of sorts to the Doc Hill Mine. It just didn't seem right to go there to hunt again since grandpa couldn't be with them. Except for occasionally stopping for a picnic in the park and walking around the area, hunting stopped at Cass. About 1997-1998 a friend came to visit an aunt where she worked with a story he thought she should know since he knew that the family had been hunting around the Cass area. This person was working a bull dosser clearing out an area across the river so the river rafters could pass through safely. His dosser had gone across an unstable rock area and before he could pull it out the area collapsed and he fell to the bottom of a large vault. As the men came over to help him out of the hole they saw something shinning below and pulled up a gold bar about 2 feet long ,the whole floor was covered with gold bars. Not knowing what to do, or who to call the only number in the phone book was the F.B.I. so they called them. It only took thirty minutes for a helicopter to get to them and men in black jumped out . The workers were told they would get a reward but not to tell anyone. This friend came to warn our family that we should be careful if we found anything while hunting because his life and his families had been threatened if he should tell and he was packing his family up and moving out of the state. The story was hard to accept so a couple days later the aunt and her husband decided to take a look around. As they drove up the mountain they saw a large black tarp draped over the bluff where the bull dosser had been working. Several black cars were parked around the highway and men in suits were walking around the woods putting up no trespassing signs. Nothing was ever said by newspaper, TV, radio or mouth except for the words of warning from a friend.
