by Brian Rill The blue sky stretches out long over the Colorado Rocky Mountains, sweeping clear onto the eastern seaboard. Then, threading back through the majestic St. Louis Arch and finally, in between towering cliffs that hang silently and over a saintly green valley. High above an obfuscated pass, followed down slowly by devout hermits, a set of frozen, lonely bones lie lost. Deep beneath the light of morning, in an old mine shaft on the mountainside, they are eroding. Spiders spread out their eight legs into the sun and blend smoothly against the melting dawn. One hundred years ago…