The moment Dan Stoakes discovered the vein of silver in the bank of a tributary of the South Platte River, he fell down in the dirt of the muddy bank and cried with joy. Careless of the water lapping over his cord pants, when he clambered to his feet, deliriously happy, he slipped and fell head first to the ground. He rolled over and peered towards the sky. “I"ve died and gone to heaven,” he said aloud, bursting into more tears. For five long years he had toiled in this little known part of the river system, wary of Indians and strangers but never encountering either. He rarely ventured into the nearby town of Twin Buttes, and then only to get supplies. He kept himself to himself and did his best not to make eye contact with anyone. An almost unhealthy belief in what lay beside the river p
