acquisitive palefaces should hear of the gold strike and overrun their game-filled hunting grounds, the old chief swore the coppery braves to everlasting secrecy. * * * * * Late that summer a lone, trail-be- grimed horseman with sunken cheeks and glazed eyes rode into Tobacco Plains and made his way to the little white-painted Mission on the out- skirts of the town. There Bill Lemon confessed his crime to his old friend, Father LeRoux, showed him the gold that he and his partner had panned along the river, and displayed to the eyes of the amazed priest the rich rock that had led to Blackjack’s murder. The man seemed almost crazed with the recollection of what had happened, and could hardly speak coherently. Without a moment’s delay Father LeRoux rounded up John McDougall, a half-breed mountain man and trap- per, and despatched him to the scene of the tragedy. Locating the spot, McDougall buried the wolf- gnawed remains of Blackjack, reared a mound of stones over the grave to keep off prowling animals, and re- turned to Tobacco Plains. But he hadn’t escaped the vigilant eyes of Bearspaw’s scouts. No sooner had he departed than a party of mounted braves swooped down on the camp- site, tore down the cairn of stones, scattered them piece-meal, and obliterated the last trace of the white and their discovery. Moccasin Telegraph Carried News All that winter Bill Lemon re- mained with Father LeRoux, on the borderline of insanity. Meanwhile the moccasin telegraph had carried Edward W. Bickle Ltd. E. W. - Ilo Ilo Van Isle - Bickle Theatres Island Printing and Publishing @ Courtenay B.C. Piercy Funeral Home Wallace at Pidcock Street Courtenay, British Columbia P. Leo Anderton & Co. NOTARY PUBLIC Real Estate and Insurance Phones 42 and 364-R Courtenay B.C. TWENTY-SECOND EDITION The Stoney Indian camp. Focal spot in the search for the lost Lemon mine. news of the rich gold-strike far afield. As soon as the snow melted, and there was forage for horses, a large party of grizzled miners, with Lemon at their head, set out to re-locate the mine. But the fates were not in a propitious mood. ‘Though Lemon scoured the gulches and hillsides; though he searched countryside and canyon for the mound of stones McDougall had reared as a marker over Blackjack’s grave, he was thwarted at every turn. “He lies—he’s holding out on us!” roared wrathful miners. “He wants to keep the diggins to himself!” “String the up and see if we can’t choke the truth out of him,” bellowed Swiftwater Bill, untying his lariat and fashioning a slip-knot. Faced by the encircling throng of berserk miners, seeing murder in their glistening eyes, the thin cord that anchored Lemon’s brain to a nebulous sanity snapped. Next mo- ment he was babbling in insane de- lirium. All night his own party stood watch over the raving man, and next morning prepared to retrace their steps to Tobacco Plains, the curses of the angry miners ringing in their ears. Undiscouraged, Father LeRoux out- fitted another party. This time the leader was to be the burly half-breed hunter, John McDougall, who buried Blackjack and was certain he could re-locate the grave. McDougall was over at Fort Benton, and was to meet the rest of the party at Crow’s Nest Lake. Leaving Fort Benton, McDougall set out with a couple of pack-ponies to keep the appointment. At Fort SHAW MOTORS LTD. INTERNATIONAL TRUCKS Austin, Packard, Studebaker Cars P.O. Box 700 Courtenay B.C. Kipp, a notorious whisky post near the border, he ran into some half- breeds and a band of roistering Rocky Mountain hunters. Toasts were drunk in potent rum. Soon McDougall was hopelessly intoxicated. A few days later Father LeRoux received word by moccasin telegraph, later confirmed by a half-breed trapper, that the man he’d depended upon to guide the party had drunk himself to death! The next year still another party of horsemen, well-equipped with a string of heavily-laden pack-mules and ponies, jogged through a crowd of blue-shirted frontiersmen and cow- punchers who thronged the main street of Tobacco Plains and soon were lost to sight beyond the blue- green horizon. Within a month they were back again, gaunt and cadaver- ous, their clothing scorched and ragged. They'd been caught in a raging forest fire beyond Crow’s Nest Lake; many of their pack-horses, Joe Hitehen = FURNITURE “Your Satisfaction Is Our Success” TELEPHONE 134 COURTENAY, B.C. STOP... RIVERSIDE HOTEL Courtenay B.C. S. H. MARRIOTT Hi-Test Concrete Gravel Suppliers to every major job in the district for many years, in- cluding Comox airport. Delivered Within the Hour Phone 49 Courtenay, B.C. Page Forty-three