A Story From The Superstition Mountains

In his travels among prospectors and miners, my Dad had met a one-legged guy who said he had prospected the Superstition Mountains. Since we were involved doing the same thing at the time Dad struck up a conversation with him that led to several visits. Over the course of a couple weeks he opened up to Dad and told him his story.

He said he had been trying to find the places where the Spanish had workings in the Superstition Mountains. There were arrastra's in several places where they had ground the ore and at least one cliff had the remains of an oven and signs of tall chimney where they roughly smelted it into ingots.

During his exploration of the area he somehow stumbled upon a small cave and discovered a cache of ingots that the Spanish had stored there. The big problem what that it was located within a claim held by others. If he told them about it he was sure they would take it all and leave him nothing. At the worst they may kill him. So he began to sneak into the area and remove a few bars at a time.

He said he took them to have them assayed and somehow word got back to other prospectors, including those whose claim he was entering. One his last trip coming from the cave one of the miners shot him in the leg with a high-power rifle. He made it out and to the hospital but lost his leg.

He told my Dad, “I will never tell those SOB's where it's at.” Dad said he was real bitter about losing his leg.

He showed my Dad one of the ingots and allowed him to cut about an inch off one end. Dad had it assayed and it was what you would expect from a rough smelting job … part gold mixed with several other minerals that I have forgotten in the last 60 years.

He eventually lost contact with the guy. I have always wondered if he ever tried to go back.