“Forty mile, you say,” remarked Brown. “Trail fair to middlin’, I s’pose?” “Not too bad. And say, if you’ll wait till morning, I’ll guide you up there. If we get an early start, we can make it in one day.” At late afternoon the rain abated, and the sky quickly cleared. A bright, warm sun shone down on a dripping world. The green of tree, bush and grass was fresh and vivid, after the life-giving moisture. “How would you like to visit my lead mine, boys?” spoke up Captain Hamilton. “It’ll serve to pass the time.” As he led them along the path, toward the mine, he explained that the Wisconsin lead mining district, rolling away westward for sixty miles to the Mississippi River, had been opened up by the whites only during the last few years. When Americans first entered the region, they discovered traces of ancient shallow diggings, and found Indians still engaged in scooping out lead ore from “near the grass roots,” using stone picks, bone spades, wooden shovels, and old gun barrels for crowbars. The savages broke up rocks by heating them, and then pouring on cold water. They smelted the ore in primitive, hopper-like pits, dug on hill slopes. “Here is my mine,” their guide said, as they reached the top of a low hill. At this place a shaft, like an ordinary well in appearance, had been sunk into a thick vein of lead ore that lay directly below. Over the five-foot opening of the shaft was a two-handed well crank or windlass, fixed upon stout posts firmly planted in the ground on either side. On this windlass ran a rope of great strength and length, to which was attached a heavy wooden bucket. “Hop in that tub, boys, two at a time,” Hamilton directed, “and we’ll drop you down in a jiffy.” Ben and Tom Gordon took the first ride. Two powerful miners manned the cranks, and they steadily descended into the murky depths. They could readily reach out and touch the rocky walls, which had been timbered in places to prevent caving. “Don’t think I’d care much to be a miner,” said Ben dubiously, as the patch of light at the shaft mouth faded from view above them. At the bottom of the hole, they found two tunnels extending out in opposite directions along the course of the vein. Pillars of rock had been left at intervals along these passages to support the roof. Stalwart miners were industriously at work, hacking at the rocky walls with shovel, pick, gad and hand drill. “When the goin’ gits too hard, we use blastin’ powder,” one of them said. The toiling miners wore heavy shoes, and warm felt hats were on their heads. Over their deerskin garments they had “wamuses” (jackets) and overalls made of bed-ticking. For lighting they used wax candles set in gobs of gummy clay, which seemed to stick to the rock walls at any and all angles. Wheelbarrows were employed to take the crude ore to the foot of the shaft for hoisting to the surface.