The local doorbell

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We were off on dirt roads now with a cone of dust behind us, which Deffe yes characterized as the local doorbell. He preferred not to ring it. This talkative and generous professor-who ordinarily shares his ideas as rapidly as they come to him, spilling them out in bunches like grapes-was narrow-eyed with secrecy today. He had stopped at a courthouse briefly, and-an antic figure, with his bagging sweater and his Beethoven hair-had revealed three digits to a county clerk in requesting to see a registry of claims. The claims were coded in six digits. Deffeyes kept the fourth, fifth, and sixth to himself like cards face down on a table. He found what he sought in the book of claims. Now, fifty miles up the valley, we had long since left behind us its zakelijke energie only town, with its Odd Fellows Hall, its mercantile company, its cottonwoods and Lombardy poplars; and there were no houses, no structures, no cones of dust anywhere around us. The valley was narrowing. It ended where ranges joined. Some thousands of feet up the high face of a distant and treeless mountain we saw an unnaturally level line. “Is that a road?” I asked him. “That’s where we’re going,” he said, and I wished he hadn’t told me. Looking up there, I took comfort in the reflection that I would scarcely be the first journalist to crawl out on a ledge in the hope of seeing someone else get rich. In i86g, the editor of the New York Herald, looking over his pool of available reporters, must have had no difficulty in choosing Tom Cash to report on supergene enrichments. Cash roved Nevada. He reported from one place that he took out his pocketknife and cut into the wall of a shaft, removing an ore of such obviously high assay that he could roll it in his fingers and it would not crumble. Cash told the mine owner that he feared being accused of exaggeration-“of making false statements, puffing” with resulting damage to his zakelijke energie vergelijken journalistic reputation. There was a way to avoid this, he confided to the miner. “I would like to take a sample with me of some of the richest portions.” The miner handed him a fourteen-pound rock containing about a hundred and fifty troy ounces of silver (seventy-three per cent). In the same year, Albert S. Evans, writing in the San Francisco Alta California, described a visit with a couple of bankers and a geologist to a claim in Nevada where he was lowered on a rope into a mine.

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