During the last two decades of the 1800s, historical records reveal significant westward migration from the states of Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, and Alabama. Many of the migrants made it as far as the rich agricultural lands of the Great Plains and the mining fields of California, but some got no further than the Arkansas Ozarks.

Tobe Inmon was a resident of one poor little valley in western Kentucky and managed to eke out a precarious existence for his family by growing some corn on a rocky hillside and raising some hogs and chickens in the bottoms. Inmon and his family did not get along well with neighbors, and he earned a reputation as a recluse, neitherneeding nor wanting the company of others.

Inmon was accused of stealing a neighbor·slivestock and, amid threats to his life, he packed his few possessions, loaded his wife and two young boys onto a wagon, and left Kentucky. The family headed west, driving their few hogs ahead of them as they traveled. They had no idea of their destination.

Following along and arduous journey over country that offered little but mud, swamps, and misery, the Inmon family arrived at Moccasin Creek Valley in Pope County, Arkansas, a few miles north of the Arkansas river. Inmon had wandered off the main trail, became lost, and in searching for a way out of the mountains found the little valley and took an immediate liking to it.

The valley was narrow with a clear stream and plenty of flood plain for growing corn. There was also good forage for his hogs and abundant timber for a cabin, pens, and firewood. The nearest neighbor lived over two miles away.

Deciding that setting up residence here was more appealing than continuing the tiring journey, Inmon went about the task of constructing a small, crude, one-room log cabin and some pens for his livestock. When he had time he planted some corn at the flat area near the creek. Life was beginning to look good for Tobe Inmon.

The nearest settlement of any importance was Dover, a small town located some twelve miles south of Inmon·s place. Inmon would sometimes haul some chickens or a hog into Dover and trade for staples like flour, sugar, and coffee. Dover residents considered Inmon a curious figure. He rarely spoke to the citizens except to conduct his business, and when he did speak he was surly. Inmon preferred to complete his transactions and leave town as quickly as possible.

Inmon wore little more than rags and always appeared unclean. On the few occasions he brought his family into town, they appeared in a wretched and ragged condition. Some who chanced by Inmon·s cabin remarked at the squalor in which the family lived.

One day during the autumn of 1903, Inmon rode into Dover and asked for a doctor. One of his children, his youngest son, had fever and was unconscious. Inmon was directed to Dr. Benjamin Martin, the only doctor in town, and the physician agreed to follow him out to his Moccasin Creek Valley residence.

Dr Martin was an affable man in his late forties, well-liked by the community, and had delivered virtually every child in town. Martin was appalled at the primitive conditions in which the Inmon family lived, but agreed to remain at the bedside of the youth until he was out of danger.

Two days later the fever finally passed and, as Dr. Martin prepared his horse and carriage for the return trip to Dover, Inmon asked the doctor about his fee. Dr. Martin, aware of the man? poverty, told Inmon he could just settle up sometime in the future when times got better. Inmon was insistent, however, and finally offered the doctor a small canvas pouch containing about thirty bullets made for a large caliber rifle. During this time, bullets were very scarce. Martin examined them and found them to be well-made, and as he was an enthusiastic hunter, gratefully accepted them as payment for his medical services.

As the doctor packed the little sack of shells away in the carriage, he asked the farmer where he had obtained such fine ammunition. Inmon explained he had made the bullets himself from lead he extracted from ?n old mine back in the hills not too far from the cabin.·Dr. Martin thanked him again, climbed into his carriage, and returned to Dover.

On arriving at his home, Martin placed the sack of bullets on a shelf in his study, intending to use them on his next deer hunt. For the next several weeks, however, the physician remained busy treating the sick and delivering babies and, as a result, his autumn deer hunt had to be postponed. Time passed, and he gradually forgot about the sack of shells lying on the shelf.

A full two years passed before the doctor remembered the bullets. While readying his equipment for a deer hunt, the doctor located the bullets and examined them. Curious, he scratched the tip of one, and as some of the surface coating was removed, he noticed a peculiar color underneath.

On a hunch, the doctor canceled his deer hunt and made arrangements to visit Russeilville, a larger settlement a few miles south of Dover. Once in Russeilville, he had the bullets analyzed and, to his astonishment, learned they were composed of pure silver! Dr. Martin sold the entire sack of shells for seventy-two dollars.

On returning to Dover, Martin made plans to return to the Inmon homestead the following morning and try to convince the poor farmer to show him the location of his so-called lead mine.

At sunrise the next day, Martin departed for Moccasin Creek Valley, but when he arrived at the Inmon home he found it deserted. He drove to the nearest farm, inquired about the Inmons, and was told they had moved to Texas six months earlier.

With what little light there was left in the day, Martin climbed the low hill just beyond the Inmon cabin and wandered through the woods looking for some evidence of mining. He searched until darkness prevented him from continuing and he finally had to return to Dover.

The next morning found Dr. Martin busily outfitting himself with camping gear and provisions for an extended stay out at Moccasin Creek Valley. On this trip, he stayed two-and-a-half weeks, living in the deserted ramshackle cabin and exploring the hills and woods in search of the lost silver mine. After exhausting his food supply, he was forced to return to town.

On arriving at home, Martin made plans for an even longer stay in the valley. As he bustled around town, people remarked on his unshaven appearance and thought he acted strangely. Martin refused to teilpeople what he was doing and ignored pleas for his medical services. He was consumed with finding the fortune in silver he firmly believed existed in some hidden shaft in the Ozark Mountains near the old Inmon farmstead.

Two years passed, and Martin continued to comb the hills behind the cabin in search of the mine. Each time he was disappointed. In Dover, his patients gave up on him and sought another doctor. Eventually, Martin ran out of money and had to sell his home and practice in order to continue to finance his search for the elusive silver. Finding the mine had become an all-consuming passion for the physician, and many Dover residents believed he had gone insane.

More years passed, and the long and unsuccessful search for Tobe Inmon·s lost silver mine left Dr. Martin broke, broken, and disheartened. He finally moved in with a sister living in Russellville. Soon afterward, his health began to deteriorate rapidly and the physician finally died as a result of complications from pneumonia.

On learning of the story of Tobe Inmon ? silver bullets, several Dover residents took up the search, and during the years following the death of Martin, many treasure hunters combed the Ozark Mountains around Moccasin Creek Valley looking for the elusive ore. Some ancient tools were discovered which were later identified as being of Spanish origin and gave rise to the belief that early Spanish explorers under Hernando de Soto had actively mined this region. Aside from the tools, however, nothing else was found.

Could it be that Tobe Inmon had stumbled onto a long lost Spanish silver mine· It is likely that this was the case. Poor Tobe: With all his poverty, he likely had his hands on what apparently was a fortune in silver, but he did not recognize it for what it was. And poor Dr. Martin: He recognized it for what is was but could never locate the source of the wealth.

SOURCES: Allsopp, Fred W. Folklore of Romantic Arkansas, Volume I. The Grolier Society, 1931. Jameson, W. C. Buried Treasures of the Ozarks and Appalachians. Promontory Press. 1993.