Pamela, don't you know that undemonstrated human calculations won't do to bet on? Don't you know that I have only talked, as yet, but proved nothing? Don't you know that I have expended money in this country but have made none myself? Don't you know that I have never held in my hands a gold or silver bar that belonged to me? Don't you know that it's all talk and no cider so far? Don't you know that people who always feel jolly, no matter where they are or what happens to them--who have the organ of hope preposterously developed--who are endowed with an uncongealable sanguine temperament--who never feel concerned about the price of corn--and who cannot, by any possibility, discover any but the bright side of a picture--are very apt to go to extremes, and exaggerate with 40-horse microscopic power? Of course I never tried to raise these suspicions in your mind, but then your knowledge of the fact that some people's poor frail human nature is a sort of crazy institution anyhow, ought to have suggested them to you.Now, if I hadn't thoughtlessly got you into the notion of coming out here, and thereby got myself into a scrape, I wouldn't have given you that highly-colored paragraph about the mill, etc., because, you know, if that pretty little picture should fail, and wash out, and go the Devil generally, it wouldn't cost me the loss of an hour's sleep, but you fellows would be so much distressed on my account as I could possibly be if "circumstances beyond my control" were to prevent my being present at my own funeral.But--but--"In the bright lexicon of youth, There's no such word as Fail--"and I'll prove it!
And look here.I came near forgetting it.Don't you say a word to me about "trains" across the plains.Because I am down on that arrangement.
That sort of thing is "played out," you know.The Overland Coach or the Mail Steamer is the thing.
You want to know something about the route between California and Nevada Territory? Suppose you take my word for it, that it is exceedingly jolly.Or take, for a winter view, J.Ross Brown's picture, in Harper's Monthly, of pack mules tumbling fifteen hundred feet down the side of a mountain.Why bless you, there's scenery on that route.You can stand on some of those noble peaks and see Jerusalem and the Holy Land.And you can start a boulder, and send it tearing up the earth and crashing over trees-down-down-down-to the very devil, Madam.And you would probably stand up there and look, and stare and wonder at the magnificence spread out before you till you starved to death, if let alone.But you should take someone along to keep you moving.
Since you want to know, I will inform you that an eight-stamp water mill, put up and ready for business would cost about $10,000 to $12,000.Then, the water to run it with would cost from $1,000 to $30,000--and even more, according to the location.What I mean by that, is, that water powers in THIS vicinity, are immensely valuable.So, also, in Esmeralda.
But Humboldt is a new country, and things don't cost so much there yet.
I saw a good water power sold there for $750.00.But here is the way the thing is managed.A man with a good water power on Carson river will lean his axe up against a tree (provided you find him chopping cord-wood at $4 a day,) and taking his chalk pipe out of his mouth to afford him an opportunity to answer your questions, will look you coolly in the face and tell you his little property is worth forty or fifty thousand dollars! But you can easily fix him.You tell him that you'll build a quartz mill on his property, and make him a fourth or a third, or half owner in said mill in consideration of the privilege of using said property--and that will bring him to his milk in a jiffy.So he spits on his hands, and goes in again with his axe, until the mill is finished, when lo! out pops the quondam wood-chopper, arrayed in purple and fine linen, and prepared to deal in bank-stock, or bet on the races, or take government loans, with an air, as to the amount, of the most don't care-a-d---dest unconcern that you can conceive of.By George, if I just had a thousand dollars--I'd be all right! Now there's the "Horatio," for instance.There are five or six shareholders in it, and I know I could buy half of their interests at, say $20 per foot, now that flour is worth $50 per barrel and they are pressed for money.But I am hard up myself, and can't buy--and in June they'll strike the ledge and then "good-bye canary." I can't get it for love or money.Twenty dollars a foot!
Think of it.For ground that is proven to be rich.Twenty dollars, Madam--and we wouldn't part with a foot of our 75 for five times the sum.
So it will be in Humboldt next summer.The boys will get pushed and sell ground for a song that is worth a fortune.But I am at the helm, now.
I have convinced Orion that he hasn't business talent enough to carry on a peanut stand, and he has solemnly promised me that he will meddle no more with mining, or other matters not connected with the Secretary's office.So, you see, if mines are to be bought or sold, or tunnels run, or shafts sunk, parties have to come to me--and me only.I'm the "firm,"you know.
"How long does it take one of those infernal trains to go through?"Well, anywhere between three and five months.
