ledge, the prospector
goes back to a settlement to attempt to interest some one in buying
or developing it. Sometimes it happens that he loses the location of
the vein and cannot go back to the place where it was discovered. In
this way his discovery becomes a "lost mine," and grows in importance
in people's minds as the story of its riches spreads from one to
another. Although men may spend years looking for such mines, they
are not often found again.

Frequently two men go prospecting together so that their work will
be less dangerous and lonely. If they are not at once successful,
they manage in some way to get supplies for a trip each year into
the mountains. Often they are "grub-staked," that is, some man
who has money furnishes their supplies in return for a share in
their findings.

If they have enough to eat, the prospectors, in their snug cabin,
are comfortable and happy. The cabin is built as near as possible
to the mine, so that the men need not be cut off from their work
during the stormy weather. The temperature underground is about the
same in both winter and summer, so that winter storms and summer
heat form no hindrance to the work.

[Illustration: FIG. 98.--MOUTH OF A TUNNEL]

Years spent in life of this kind lead men to love the mountains.
They feel a sympathy with Nature and a companionship in her presence.
When they have to visit the town for supplies, they long to get back
to their little cabins. They feel lost in the whirl and confusion
of the city.

Summer is a delightful time at the many little miners' cabins scattered
through the mountains. The air is invigorating, the water pure and
cold. There is everything in the surroundings to make one happy.
In the winter the miner sits by his great fireplace, with the flames
roaring up the chimney. He has no stove to make the air close and
oppressive. About the fireplace his dishes are arranged--the kettle
for beans, the coffee-pot, and the Dutch oven in which the bread is
baked. If there are some old paper-covered story-books at hand, it
does not matter how fiercely the storms rage without. Ask any old
prospector who has spent years in this manner if he would exchange
his cabin for a house in the city, and he will most decidedly answer
"no."

This lonely life in the mountains seems to engender hospitality.
The old-time prospector will make you welcome to his cabin and
will share his last crust with you. When he asks you in to have
some coffee