Potter School - Shield Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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nd D H9 g0odj fuuzesogl, H hea Vvl 'halnpion Who had 7OU11d U39 next Western he fight 0175 that making traight 'HS just lit and 8 and as six Welve I as a liking 1 one rved 5ht's ded, the ed, ght ne. 'ast ng. and 'en l sen- the was , ZS vas. ,inst awo ! 5 his our the We ip read. THE POTTER SHIELD The Red Bank Claim IT WAS just sunset and Don Madero was very sick and tired. His best friend was the leathern canteen which hung over his saddle. Eight miles had he come in from Flume Gulch to see a doctor. Cn a previous visit to Dr. Simms he had been given a dozen quinine powders to be taken after meals. Instead he had taken them all at once, with rather a disastrous effect. Well, said the doctor, as Madero stood before his desk, 'fwhat's the matter this trip? Been drinking too much commissary whiskey or been sleeping in the tule marshes? Come, let's have it out. Madero had been prospecting with three other Spaniards, and he told the doc- tor what poor retorts he had received, and how sick he felt all over, including his feet, which had been scoured with Golash Balius, that irritating disease of the sagebrush. Well, young fellow, smiled the doctor, that means a strong dose of medicine for you, and with that he administered to the Spaniard some ill-tasting tablets. Don took them with much gratification, and started for the door. But he hesi- tated and said bashfully, I have no mon, Senior Medicof' Never mind. It's only a dollar for the medicine. Madero showed signs of guilt for having swallowed so much cash. Then he dug into the pocket of his chaps. I non got de mon, but I got here what may be good for you. ,Eet is yours. He handed over the precious tin can he had brought with him. Simms took it and looked at the red, dusty, powdery mass. Why, this is mercuric oxide! Yes, Madero drawled out, having no idea what such a matter was. The doctor's face grew earnest as he inquired, Where did you get this? Was there an abundant supply of this rock? Could you find the place again? Madero answered these questions in succession, stating positively that he could certainly find the spot again, for his mule Volto was staked there. The doctor rose and shut his door. Listen, Don Madero, that bit of medicine I gave you was worth a dollar because it contained that red dust in the form of quicksilver or mercury. It is one of the most valuable metals, especially in gold- mining country. My good fellow, if you really know where to find more of it, your fortune is made. But my partners Jose Raphael, Boldero Esperanzo and San Gubo! They may stake out claim before I get back! No fear of that, Don, said the doctor understandingly, they are probably in town here right now spending their last cent at the Silver Palacef' 'tYes, I think mebbe you right, for they say perhaps they come in tonightf, Just where are your diggings? inquired Simms. Ah, me buen hombre, you take north road from town for eight miles along Bear trail in Flume Gulch. When you come under Desperation Peak, you climb up on your right on the rocky ledge, and then you soon find my mud hut, huh, Then quick, hurry out and mount your horse. Be back before your friends come. In the meantime I'll get some friends to back you and help you make your claim. Remember that the minutes are precious. I'll be along soon. u Madero hurried out, muttering inexpressible thanks, and mounted his fast into. A p It was a fact that Madero's companions were in town, yet they were not shaking dice at any saloon as Dr. Simms surmised. They were consulting w1th.Jim Blast, foreman of the Last Chance Mining Company, who believed in possibilities, and who had the reputation of 'fmaking thingsgo through. A few minutes later Simms reached Charlie Gordon's oflice, dressed for an all- night ride. Gordon was manager for the Lucky Shaft Mining Company, which had its main office in Denver, Colorado, and whose stock played an important part in the financial world. Just at present the stock was low, due to the success Nine

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THE POTTER SHIELD The Western Champion C CWELL, I know it. We can't get that fold out, no matter how we fix it.' It won t make any difference. They won't trip over it, and Dread- naught will knock him out anyhow. . 0 , r Oh! Let it go! If anyone trips it will be 'Knock-out' Brown. He s no good. This conversation took place on the forward deck of the U. S. S. Mznnesota. The objects of the conversation were Dreadnaught Hooker, champion heavy- weight of the Minnesota, and Knock-out Brown, ex-prize-lighter and champion heavyweight of the 146th Battalion of the U. S. Infantry. .The men who had spoken were laying a piece of canvas on the deck and stretching ropes around it, forming a prize-ring in preparation for the fight that was to take place the next evening. This fight was to decide a long contested championship of the Western division of our Army and the Western fleet of our Navy. The ring for the fight had been laid directly on the deck. Near the middle of the canvas was a bolt that was not flush with the planking. This caused the canvas to rise a little, making the fold mentioned above. Knock-out Brown was a fighter with a record. He had won seven straight fights, the last six of which had been knock-outs. The Dreadnaught was just a mountain of human flesh. He had won most of his fights by sheer weight and strength, and not by any skill in boxing. The long-awaited evening arrived at last. The fighters entered the ring and were introduced to the spectators. Dreadnaught looked his name. He was six feet four inches in his stocking feet and he weighed two hundred and twelve pounds. Knock-out Brown also looked the part. He was all muscle, quick as a cat, and he had the chest of a giant. I-Ie was just five feet eleven inches in stocking feet and his weight was one hundred and ninety-eight pounds. The fighters approached each other. There were a few little taps to test one another and then the fight began in earnest. It was evident that Knock-out deserved his name. Most of his punches went to his opponent's face, while Dreadnaught's were all long swings and slow hooks. If that right of Dreadnaught's ever landed, however, all would be over. In the second round Knock-out worked around and planted a smash in the enemy's stomach, followed by a hook to the jaw. The sailor staggered, recovered, and feebly evaded the onrush of the other. A few seconds later the gong rang. The third round was all clinches, breaks, and clinches again. Dreadnaught had not quite recovered from that jab inthe stomach and he was stalling for time. In the fourth round both men came back hard. There was much quick, fast Work that set the spectators to cheering wildly. Suddenly Dreadnaught swung. He caught the soldier on the side of the jaw and laid him flat. The referee's hand went up and down as he counted out the seconds. One! two! three! four! five! Knock-out stirred and tried to rise. Six! seven! eight! nine! He was on his feet. Dreadnaught seemed to be paying more atten- tion to the audience than he was to the soldier. Knock-out-'s arm came back, the arm that had spelled disaster to so many. He had one punch left and he was going to use it! THEN! The arm came forward like lightning! The sailor, as he jumped back to avoid the blow, caught his foot on that fatal fold in the canvas. He fell backwards, the blow just touching his nose, and his head thumped against the deck! Then all was darkness. Dimly he heard a voice saying: One! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight! nine! Out! The referee approached Knock-out. He raised the gloved hand high above his head and cried: Knock-out Brown, champion of the Western division of our Army and Navy!!' Even the referee didn't know that the bolt had been a silent partner in the Armyis victory. J R. G., '22. Eight 7

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THE POTTER SHIELD of the newly organized Last Chance Mining Company. Tom Simms related his story to Gordon. A lawyer and assayer of the company Were procured and soon horses were saddled and the quartet were on their way. o After they had been riding for about half an hour, they were rounding a bend in the trail which faced an apparent meadow. Ahead of them they saw several bright lights hovering to and fro. ' , I Say, there, exclaimed Dr. Simms very excitedly, that cant be Maderoys friends. There were only three of them, and I can make out ten distinct lights. After some reasoning Gordon and Simms came to the conclusion that more than likely Madero's friends were also hurrying to lay claim to the much coveted red rock. The night was dark and the trail was a winding one. Whichever party had the best horse-flesh would win. Madero's rivals were evidently mounted on burros, while the doctor and his associates had horses. In such a race through sagebrush, luck only could decide. As near as the doctor could judge, they had still some three miles to travel. The horses were beginning to flounder and breathe hard, though they were doing their best. The strong little mules, a quarter of a mile ahead, were rapidly approaching Desperation Peak, a small mountain that reared its sharp summit high above the valley. If our horses only last, cried the doctor, we'll make it. Now boys, all together for a race up the hill. The animals responded to the spurs with renewed vigor and in a few moments were passing the claim jumpers. They were subject to curses such as only enraged Spaniards can utter. Some pistol shots were fired, but fortunately, due to the darkness of the night, these missed their mark. As they rounded a sudden turn in the rocky ledge they heard a loud cry. They pulled their horses in and found the speaker to be a man all crouched up, who proved to be Madero. He was losing blood rapidly from a stray bullet wound. Hello! In a few minutes I'll tend to you. Can't stop now. Immediately Simms and his followers hurried va few paces away to the red banks, which was the much prized destination, and quickly started in to place location notices wherever they would stick. Just as the assayer was tacking up the last sign, a bullet whizzed past his head and several mules came to a standstill in front of Simms' party. Nine savage looking.Spaniards swept off their horses and went for Don Madero, who was unconscious. Gordon recognizing Blast of the rival mining company said, I didn't know it was you that we passed in the Ridge Gulch. Neither did I, for if I had, I would have sure killed your blessed outfit. Hey, there, you greasers, leave that man alone and pull down those claim notices. f'My dear man, chirped in the lawyer, the law says, 'First come, first served'. Hang your old law 5 anything goes up here in the mountains, and with that he drew back and hit the lawyer. This enraged Gordon to such an extent that he immediately started a fight with Blast. Blow for blow was being exchanged while Simms was trying to pacify the situation by putting all the lights out. The Spaniards by this time had torn down all the claim marks, but didn't replace them, as in their hurry to start failed to take any with them. Just then the noise of rocks falling was heard, and much to everyonels surprise a band of white prospectors, who were in the same company as Gordon, jumped off their horses, and yelled, Hey, Gordon, can we help you? We saw your mare on the ridge there. Yes, cried Gordon, quiet these Spaniards and give Blast of the Last Chance a drink. I guess I put him out of the running. When this had been done, Gordon inquired: How did you come here? Well, this afternoon I laid claim to this Red Banks outfit and was just about to return, when I saw your mare and heard pistol shots. Hard luck, Blast, you're oo a e. , L. G., JR., '18. Ten