In my loverly little unicorporated area of the Arizona desert, we are surrounded by volcanoes.
One of them, a big dark, forboding one that exploded itself apart some 25 million years ago is named Mt. Woolsey and/or Woolsey Peak.
This guy, Woolsey was a complete dick. (sorry, no other word to describe him).
He ran around over the western part of the state. Excecuting the Apache. Because they were being evil? No. This guy was just after getting rid of those people by any means needed to aquire gold, silver and copper.
Now, at my house, there is no such deposits as far as I know. Woolsey peak, however is visibile from my front 'yard'. All we have are many broken chunks of lava, quartz, and other various rocks that covered the area millions of years ago during the massive explosion.
Woolsey peak, the source of most of the violence, does have gold, silver and copper.
Now owned by the Soviet US government (sigh).
One of Mr. Woolseys little adventures was how he somehow tricked a tribe down from that mountain. He planted explosives along the way and killed hundreds of them.
To this day, from time to time, what few people venture forth on the much closer to me riverbed (around 4 miles) which sources from that place find indian artifacts. Made of silver. The left overs of the dead.
Im a mature man and like to go outside around here at night with a 357 Mag. However, I dont think I would be as comfortable along the riverbed or worse, up the flanks of that moutain.
Not even with a gun.
Things can and do happen when least expected.