The time -- sometime in the twilight years of the 1890's. The place: just west of the dusty cow town of Spokane. As our story opens, a lonely figure is toiling across the plains of what would someday be Airway Heights. For now, it was nothing but windswept prairie and blue skies.
Moh, the famous hard rock miner, was plodding along behind his ol' mule, Pete. Fortune hadn't been too kind to ol' Moh in the last few years. He'd drifted from the Colorado goldfields to the California placer workings, and even up to the Yukon for a spell. Nothing had seemed to work, though. Every time there was a rich strike, Moh had either just left the town, or the bounty petered out before he could roll in. As a consequence, Moh was almost ready to give up on the hard rock stuff, and find a new line of work. He'd been thinking of getting into politics, since that didn't seem quite as dangerous as mine cave-ins, and maybe getting shot over a bag full of gold. After running dry for too many years, Moh had finally decided that he was going to hang up his pick and run for public office. Even now he was working on some catchy slogans for his campaign. "Vote for Miner Moh -- and get rich!" was certainly promising, but he hadn't quite worked out the rich angle just yet.
As Moh drifted along behind faithful old Pete, his thoughts miles away, he suddenly stumbled and almost fell as his foot caught on something sticking out of the ground. Flapping his arms like a bird trying to take off, Moh managed at least to not fall flat on his hind end. Mumbling an ever-so-slightly unrefined expletive, Moh grabbed Pete's lead and stopped to see what had almost upset his applecart.
At first, the thing that had caught his foot seemed rather unremarkable. An iron ring was protruding slightly from the dirt, and his rather rundown boot print in the dust under the ring showed how he'd been caught. Deciding that he might as well see what the ring was attached to, Moh dug his trusty pick out of the pack on Pete's back and started digging the dirt away.
After a hard hour of digging, he'd uncovered a large crate of some sort. His curiosity now completely aroused, he started prying the lid open. What treasures lay inside?! What riches might soon be his?!
With a final wrench and a creak, the lid popped off the old crate. To his wondering eyes were now revealed the treasures: two sets of carefully sized rocks, laid out and neatly labeled in two rows. 
In the first row were Topaz, two different samples of Corundum, and a piece of Gypsum. The second row contained Tephroite, Acanthite, and two varieties of Tincalconite.
Instead of treasure, Moh had unearthed some sort of assayers samples. This was NOT the bonanza he'd been expecting! He slammed the lid shut and shoved the box back in the ground. There were no riches here! Evidently, fate had decided that a life of crime politics was to be his future, after all.
Should you feel an urge to walk in the footsteps of that great historical figure, Moh the hard rock miner, you may use this tale to help you find the spot where he stubbed his toe on what he hoped was treasure. Search well, friend, and treasure you'll get -- a smiley face on Geocaching.com!
Congratulations to brlaughner for being the FTF
