While prospecting for Gold up in the Yukon Territory with a man named Death Valley Danny it got so cold that we almost froze to death. But my trusty sled dog named Woofer contributed to my survival. Danny was not used to this Northern climate since he was from the high desert in California. He only came north to get a change of scenery for a while and to collect a gambling debt. I met Danny about a year ago when I was passing through Death Valley on my way from Texas to Hollywood. I was on my way to audition for a part in the talking movie called the Zigfield Follies of 1939 when my Stutz Bearcat automobile broke down near Scotty’s Castle. I caught a ride with a truck driver hauling a load of Crosley radios. While waiting for the car to be repaired I was biding my time in the lobby of the Oasis Hotel. I joined a poker game with a man in a yellow zoot suit, two cowboys and an old man wearing a bathrobe. One of the cowboys was abruptly asked to leave the table. Cheater, I guess.
His seat was taken by a talented card player that the other men called, Steamboat Steve. A tall man, dressed in a fancy light blue suit that made me think that perhaps he was a riverboat gambler. Still I wondered how a Mississippi River gambler could have ended up out here in the desert. I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. The card game was going well until about midnight when I ran out of cash, gold nuggets and jewelry. In desperation I wagered the deed to my mine in the Yukon Territory up near Yellowknife. That night I picked up the nickname Lenny-No-Penny and it stuck. As the hours at the green felt table passed I learned the name of man in the yellow plaid zoot suit was Death Valley Danny. He was a local. His handful of one-eyed Jacks and tens entitled him to ownership of the Lucky Leonard Mine. My loss was his gain. So here we are shivering in the Yukon. About the time that Death Valley Danny arrived in the Yukon we hit a nice vein of good quality ore so the future looked bright. His card playing habit had resulted in my winning back half ownership of the mine. We were both going to become rich. But after two successful days of digging out some good color, an intense blizzard blew in on a wicked North wind. We were about 200 feet down in the mine readying some dynamite and hadn’t noticed that the weather outside had changed for the worse. When Danny took a break from swinging his pick axe to go up and fetch a canteen of water, he saw that the bad weather had arrived and he panicked. That lowdown Danny took my dogsled, rifle, ax and a 100 pound sack of beans as he made a dash for town. Fortunately he left my dog, Woofer, behind. Alone in the mine with just my trusty sled dog to keep me company, I devised a survival plan. With no firearms, food or water I had no choice but eat the dog. Luckily I had stashed away a reserve supply of Barbeque sauce from my pal in Kansas City. He owns a smoke shack near the state line and makes the best barbeque ever. Those Kansas City rib joint can’t be beat. One time I was at a little smokehouse near Swope Park eating a big plate of ribs when none other than Charles Lindberg walked in. Well, I walked up to him and said if he knew what was good for him he would turn around and leave … But that is another tale for another day. Back to the gold mine. Well I knew that I was in trouble but I stayed calm. Down in the mine the temperature is an even 68 degrees all the time so I sat out the blizzard and rationed by food until spring came and I could hike back to town with a satchel full of gold. It was a long trek and when I arrived on the muddy main street of Yellowknife and made my way directly to the Grant’s General Store. “Lenny! Good to see you! I thought you were dead! Come on in,” was the hearty greeting of One-Eye Grant the owner and proprietor. “What made you think I was dead? I am a bit tired, hungry and thirsty but far from cashing in my chips,” I replied. Your partner Death Valley Danny passed through here during a blizzard and mumbled something about an incident at the mine and me and boys took it to mean that you were a goner,” said One-Eye. “That scoundrel left me for dead but I’ll have the last laugh, indeed,” I said as I plopped a fist full off gold nuggets onto the counter. That spring I was living a life of luxury up in the Yukon. I never heard any news of Death Valley Danny so I guess he must have headed back to California. 
