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Diamond Rush. Tons of other Games are available in Logic category at ecarenpen. Diamond Rush game download for mobile phone. Description of Diamond Rush: Grab the diamonds, and the lam! By July , Fipke and his small crew were taking mineral samples in the Northwest Territories' Mackenzie Mountains, about 1, miles north of the U. When Dummett heard from a local bush pilot that he'd been flying supplies to a De Beers crew at a wilderness site some miles away, everybody's ears pricked up; the cartel had unsuccessfully scoured Canada for 30 years, from the high Arctic to the U.

What were they doing nearby? Fipke flew out on a spy mission and located the camp. Later, with Stewart Blusson, a geologist and participant in the venture, he sneaked near the De Beers claim at 2 A. Fipke and Blusson filled half a dozen sample bags with dirt and escaped unseen. John Gurney analyzed the samples and reported back to Dummett. He had found garnets, chromites, and ilmenites with perfect compositions for diamonds.

Dummett phoned Fipke--after having the phone checked for bugs--to discuss the find. At the time, the company was in negotiations with De Beers on another project and didn't want to jeopardize it by competing with the cartel in Canada. Fipke and Blusson were convinced they had something.

They pulled together a couple of small investors, put in their own money, and went ahead on their own.

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Blusson, a wiry, weathered man seven years Fipke's senior, had worked in the Yukon and Northwest Territories for 20 years and had grizzly- bear claw marks on his left arm to prove it. He also knew how to fly a helicopter, a necessity in a land with no roads. Blusson thought De Beers was "out to lunch" wasting time looking for the source of the indicators here. He knew that glaciers had swept into this very area from hundreds of miles to the east, out of what was now the Barren Lands.

The last glacier, towering at least a mile high, had melted just 10, years ago, leaving an endless landscape of pulverized debris. Anything this powerful had to be taken into account: the glaciers, he figured, had passed over some pipes, scraped off their tops, and kept on going, taking the minerals with them. When the ice melted, the indicators would have dropped out and washed westward with meltwater. The kimberlite pipes had to be out there somewhere. Fipke and Blusson didn't know precisely what they were looking for--the exact compositions of the best indicator minerals were still known only to Gurney, Jennings, and Dummett.

But they knew enough. For much of they dug mineral samples up-ice, trying to trace the mineral train back.

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Streambeds, lake beaches, and eskers--giant miles-long ridges of sand and gravel left by rivers that had flowed through melting ice--often proved fruitful. By winter they had worked their way miles east, and they continued to find minerals with compositions that strongly hinted at diamonds.

They could not live like the De Beers folks, for example, who had ice for their scotch flown in by helicopter during warm weather and went home before things froze over at the end of the eight-week summer. Not wanting De Beers to know they were following the glaciers, the pair tramped around in snowshoes in the fall. Blusson flew solo, filing no flight plan and keeping radio silence. One day he landed in cold so intense he couldn't restart the engine.

Realizing no one knew his position, and afraid of freezing, he gathered some stunted birches and built a fire under the engine until it warmed enough to turn over.

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When winter grew too cold even for the two geologists, Fipke holed up in his lab, which now occupied several unmarked bays in a one- story cinder-block building off Kelowna's commercial strip. Most days he worked there from 9 A. Sometimes he could separate out only three or four specks of indicator minerals from a pound sample, but it was enough to keep them going.

By they were out of money, and Fipke founded Dia Met Minerals, floating shares as low as 17 cents each to neighbors and friends in Kelowna. Secretaries at the lab bought some; so did neighbors, family friends, and the owner of a Greek restaurant where Fipke ate late at night. That summer he flew with 17 different bush pilots, picking up samples in an arc ranging nearly miles east of his and Blusson's starting point.

In Fipke's lab that winter, something jumped out: about miles out, near a place he named Little Exeter Lake, the indicators got bigger and more numerous; one esker sample had an astonishing 6, pyrope garnets. Yet just a little farther on, the minerals dropped off--meaning he'd probably reached the pipe field. Now all he had to do was find the pipes--no mean feat in a land where everything can be covered with feet of glacial till.

Around this time Gurney's research leaked. The Russians, it turned out, had been working along the same lines he had, and they began publishing papers. Gurney wanted credit, so he published, too. Fipke wrangled a grant from the Geological Survey of Canada to build a data base and imported one of Gurney's top students to help. By the summer of , Fipke had set up a tent camp near the lake, bringing his son Mark, then 22, and bush pilot and venture capitalist David MacKenzie.

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Blusson by this time was conducting his own explorations. The closest town, miles southeast, was tiny Yellowknife, situated near the dead end of a gravel road. Little Exeter Lake is in an area of rolling, heath-covered ridges, vast fields of giant boulders, and towering, sandy eskers that run to the horizon. Thousands of bright blue lakes--mostly unnamed--lie everywhere.

Here, in the intense round-the-clock summer light, they worked 18 hours a day shoveling dirt and lugging it around in backpacks. Tracing the source of the indicators was mind- boggling: indicators were everywhere, and the glaciers here appeared to have lumbered around in three or four directions.

Fipke became a terrorizing taskmaster. When the bruised pilot stumbled into camp after walking 25 miles, Fipke ran up to him. Where's the damn sample? MacKenzie just stared at him. One helper was driven mad by the Barren Lands mosquitoes, which attack man and beast in thunderclouds during the summer.

He tore off his bug suit--a sealed mesh jacket and face hood that is de rigueur--as well as his shirt, and screamed for the bugs to come get him. They did, and he went home on the next plane. Soon Fipke was in a quandary: to obtain exclusive rights to explore land, you must claim it by marking it out with wooden stakes and registering it with the government. However, he was unsure where to stake to make certain he got the pipes; and he knew once he did stake, competitors might rush in like homesteaders and cut him off at the pass he himself had led them to.

In the summer of he started quietly, trying to lay out as much acreage as possible, telling anyone who asked that they were prospecting for gold. They worked until October, when the winds grow icy and lakes can freeze a foot thick in three days. Afraid he hadn't covered enough, Fipke insisted on returning in April, when it was still winter.

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By the twelfth of the month, their hired helicopter had eaten their budget, and they could stay only one more day. That evening Fipke looked down from the aircraft at a small frozen lake at the very edge of the claim. He'd never noticed it before, but its strangely plunging depth and circular shape reminded him of kimberlite pipes he'd seen in South Africa. That night he couldn't sleep. In the morning he headed back to it. In search of a sample at the shoreline, Fipke, Mark, and MacKenzie dug through six feet of snow until they hit a jumble of boulders.

They chipped through two feet of ice to reach ground but hit only more big rocks. Another excavation got the same results. And another.

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Five hours later, recalls MacKenzie, he could still see Fipke in a hole over his head, clawing away at the frozen earth. Facing frostbite and exhaustion, they moved to some glacial till down-ice from the lake and found a patch of ground the powerful winds had swept bare. Their hammers just bounced off. Then Mark bent over and picked up a bright green, pea-size chunk. It was chrome diopside--a rare kimberlitic mineral so soft it usually disintegrates completely a mile or two from a pipe.

A piece this big meant they were right on top of something. They named the place Point Lake and raced home. They were right to hurry. De Beers was rumored to be lurking in the Barrens. And Chris Jennings, aware of the original indicators that led Fipke here, had come to Canada himself to stalk the mineral train secretly. After various starts and stops, he was also nearby. When he heard Fipke was staking, he unsuccessfully pleaded with his employers to grab a promising parcel from under Fipke. Fipke and his partners, verging on bankruptcy and fearing claim jumpers, went to Hugo Dummett, now an executive for Broken Hill Proprietary, an Australian mining conglomerate with worldwide interests.

Dummett quickly saw what Fipke had, and BHP agreed to front a half-billion dollars in exploration costs in return for a 51 percent controlling interest in the claim.