THE BLUEBEARD OF
LOST CREEK MINE

By W. W. BRIDE

OCCASIONALLY WIERD and awe-
inspiring legends and old tales drift in
from B. C.’s vast hinterland, the land of
everlasting glaciers, rugged peaks, “lost
valleys’ and hoodooed wealth. Perhaps the
strangest of all is that of Lost Creek Mine
and its wierd story of murder, hanging,
starvation and sudden death dealt out to
those hardy enough to dare the warnings
and search for the fabulous wealth stored
in the fastnesses of the Pitt Lake Moun-
tains.

The existence of the bonanza in the dist-
rict was first revealed some forty years
ago when an Indian from that district
appeared in New Westminster who was
apparently pretty stakey, since the tales of
his wild spending spree are still told with
relish by the old-timers of the city. Slum-
mock was a slim, wiry young Indian, poss-
essing to an unnatural degree the usual
Indian taciturnity. Try as they might, nei
ther his fellow tribesmen nor the friendly
whites could find the slightest inkling as to
the source of his new-found wealth. In spite
of the vigilance of friends he slipped quietly
away when his one-man Potlatch was over.
Twice again the town was livened up by
the visit of Slummock. The third gala
occasion seemed to pall a little on the red
man. Despite his boasts he seemed worried.

Even as he flung his gold to the four
winds and had his moment of importance,
the police were engaged in a gruesome task
on the banks of the river a few miles north.
They were searching the battered body of
a young Indian squaw that had been fished
from the river. On her person they found
several good-sized nuggets. She was of
Slummock’s tribe. Questioned about her,

the young Indian admitted that she had
helped him on his last trip to the mountains
but had been washed off the raft they made
to descend the Pitt River. Although sus-
picion was rife as to how many others he
had helped to disappear, there was not
sufficient proof to convict him.

Some years later Slummock again ap-
peared in town and boasted of his wealth
and his find in the hills. When pressed as
to the location he still refused to tell. This
was to be his last visit. As before, even as
he indulged in his fling, another body was
picked out of the river. Although highly
suspicious, the police had not sufficient
proof for an arrest. Many wondered how
many others had gone the same way as
the young squaw, since it was certain that
no Indian of Slummock’s present standing
would enter the woods without a squaw to
pack and cook for him.

It was some years later before Slummock
again appeared. His opulence was appar-
ent. No less than four squaws formed his
entourage as he strutted down the main
street. Again he launched forth on his wild
orgy. This was to prove his last fling. A
third body was turned over to the police,
again a comely young squaw. This time a
hunting knife protruded from her back. It
was Slummock’s own knife. Other evidence
brought out at the trial proved the guilt of
the man beyond all doubt.

Brazen and boastful, the young Bluebeard
told of the killing of eight other squaws.
It was an easy matter to persuade them to
“pack in” for him by promising them un-
told wealth. For fear that they would tell
of his rich strike to others, he disposed of
them on the return trip. That his murders

BOATING
DANCING
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would be discovered did not bother him in
the least. He counted on the inaccessibility
of the wild and rugged country through
which he travelled.

Defiant to the end, he laughed at all
attempts to worm from him the location of
his wealth. The clang of the gallows took
the secret to eternity.

The furore created by the facts brought
out at Slummock’s trial as to the location
of his killings was to bring tangible evi-
dence of the existence of his valley of gold.
This was not to be won easily. More than
one hardy prospector bitten with the gold-
bug started out in the spring to face the
wilds and struggled back months later a
beaten and broken man. Fierce mountain
torrents, treacherous ice crevasses, starva-
tion and sickness plagued the boldest and
accounted for many who never returned.
The Pitt River Mountains were reluctant
to reveal their secret to the grasping hand
of the whites.

Almost thirty years after the excitement
and the disappointment of the search had
disappeared, the Lost Mine came to life
again.

In 1930 a party of Seattle financiers and
mining men appeared in New Westminster
and began interviewing all the old-timers
and prospectors they could locate. From
each they gleaned the facts and rumours
concerning the Lost Mine of the Pitt River
country. To those who scoffed and called
them fools they showed a letter and a map,
drawn by a prospector named Jackson.
This was the one man upon whom Lady
Luck had smiled. Soon after Slummock’s
execution he had set forth into the area
north and west of Pitt Lake. There he had
stumbled upon Lost Creek. There he had
found gold beyond his wildest dreams. Being
just about at the end of his tether, he had
filled a knapsack with gold and started the
long trek to civilization and food and rest.
He was the merest wreck of a man when
he reached town. Revealing not a hint of
his colossal luck, he had gone on to San
Francisco. There the doctors told him that

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