"01 - Princess of Mars, A" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burroughs Edgar Rice)

Carter of Virginia. At the close of the Civil War I found
myself possessed of several hundred thousand dollars
(Confederate) and a captain's commission in the cavalry arm
of an army which no longer existed; the servant of a state
which had vanished with the hopes of the South. Masterless,
penniless, and with my only means of livelihood, fighting,
gone, I determined to work my way to the southwest and
attempt to retrieve my fallen fortunes in a search for gold.

I spent nearly a year prospecting in company with another
Confederate officer, Captain James K. Powell of Richmond.
We were extremely fortunate, for late in the winter of
1865, after many hardships and privations, we located the
most remarkable gold-bearing quartz vein that our wildest
dreams had ever pictured. Powell, who was a mining engineer
by education, stated that we had uncovered over a million
dollars worth of ore in a trifle over three months.

As our equipment was crude in the extreme we decided
that one of us must return to civilization, purchase the
necessary machinery and return with a sufficient force of
men properly to work the mine.

As Powell was familiar with the country, as well as with
the mechanical requirements of mining we determined that
it would be best for him to make the trip. It was agreed that
I was to hold down our claim against the remote possibility
of its being jumped by some wandering prospector.

On March 3, 1866, Powell and I packed his provisions on
two of our burros, and bidding me good-bye he mounted
his horse, and started down the mountainside toward the
valley, across which led the first stage of his journey.

The morning of Powell's departure was, like nearly
all Arizona mornings, clear and beautiful; I could see
him and his little pack animals picking their way down the
mountainside toward the valley, and all during the morning I
would catch occasional glimpses of them as they topped a hog
back or came out upon a level plateau. My last sight of
Powell was about three in the afternoon as he entered the
shadows of the range on the opposite side of the valley.

Some half hour later I happened to glance casually across
the valley and was much surprised to note three little dots
in about the same place I had last seen my friend and his
two pack animals. I am not given to needless worrying, but
the more I tried to convince myself that all was well with
Powell, and that the dots I had seen on his trail were
antelope or wild horses, the less I was able to assure myself.