The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-05-21


E II mounted our horses,
e8sC and with long linen
busters on our backs and bottles of whis-
ky in our pockets rode first to Spring
Gulch, consisting of two groceries, SIX
saloons, an empty hotel, twenty miners
cabins, a seedy school house, a seedier
church, the hillsides around denuded of
earth, torn and SCARED by years Of n.y.
draulic washing, and showing great
patches Of bare yellow ledge covered
with heaps of powders. The few men
met were in coarse, ragged, gray shirts
and mud stained duck pants, and had a
worn, worked out look.
The few loungers about the Washing
ton saloon see William Saunders and
myself riding down the hill. Our dust
ers and clean linen proclaim us as ''can-
didateS." Candidates means drinks. We
dismount; soon the coveted and cheer
ing bottle is placed on the bar; a line of
tumblers in skirmishing order form be-
hind it; every one within sight and hear
ing is called up; pause Of glad antici-
patton ensues while the glasses are being
filed; the precision of barroom etiquette
is strictly observed-that not a drop be
swallowed until all are ready; then the
dozen tumblers are simultaneously
raised; the standing toast, ''Here's luck"
and the reviving alcohol fulflls its mis-
sion. This is electioneering.
Sam White is the Bismarck of our in
terests in Spring Gulch. He is the stand
ing delegate to the county convention
from this precinct. He goes by virtue
of a paying claim, capacity for ventur-
looms, gaming tables and innumerable
calls to drink, without losing his head.
He can drink deeply, quietly and fear
fully; he can drink himself into noise
and turbulence and still keep set of
sober faculties in reserve underneath.
We hold short cabinet meeting with
Sam behind the barn. He sees clearly
the political complexion of Spring Gulch.
Bob OLeary is doubtful, but may be
bought; Jack Shear and Tom Mead
must be braced up to allegiance by
whisky; Miles and O'Gorman are mad
because favorite Of theirs could not
get the nomination for supervisor last
year, and won't vote anyhow; Bob Jones
is favorable to US, but wants to leave be-
fore the primary meeting comes off; the
rest are sure for US Or sure against us.
We visit the Franklin House, just OPP
posite. The political candidates money
must not all be spent in one house. This
&c Of ha FOL IL
electioneering. Every saloon controls
few votes, or rather few whisky sod
den organizations, who are voted like
machines. The solemn ordeal of an
American treat is again witnessed. Jim
Brown becomes affectionately and pa
triotically drunk, and as we ride away
loudly proclaims himself white man
and in favor of a white mans govern
ment."
We feel that Spring Gulch is secure.
We carry it in our pocket. We ride a
couple of miles over the ridge to Six-Bit
Gulch. Red crags tower upward for
hundreds of feet; a rivulet flows along,
and on little fiat under spreading
live oak is an old log cabin.
Sam Lugar, gray and worn, resident
in this gulch for the last sixteen years,
sits outside the door smoking his pipe.
A hundred yards above is the residence
Of the Judge" another hard working,
whisky drinking hermit. A glance with
in shows the judge eating mis- evening
meal. \ child is playing about on the
mud floor, whose creamy complexion
and bright beadlike eyes indicate its In
dian origin. Hanging above the fire.
place are gun, an Indian bow, culver
full Of glass tipped arrows: on the shelf
bits of gold studded quartz, a bunch Of
petrifactions ard curiously
shaped stones found by the Judge"
from time to time in his diggings. There
are boxes full OF old magazines and news
papers; on the rude window sill cover
less, well worn copy of Shakespeare.
The judge is tall, straight and sallow in
complexion He has lived on this spot
since 1S49. Six Bit gulch was very rich.
He has torn up virgin gold in the grass
roots. He lives now on recollections Of
the flush times. Present failures and
long past successes form the staple of
his conversation. His mining is merely |
TO another occupation-the |
great aspiration of his hfe-to beat a
poker game over in Spring Gulch. He |
has been unsuccessfully trying This for |
the last seven years.
A bundle OF aboriginal duskiness en- |
veloped in bright calico gown hang |
ing about her adipose proportions stirs
IS we enter. That is the judges wife /
a sIuaw. Her family down 10 the third /
generation are camped in the brush hard |
by. They visit the judge at stated in
and AZ such times the family e1-
penSes are trebled- The gray shirt and |
duck pants ned at the waist with a
string constitute the JUDGES only dress
suit. On the floor near him Is SHAPE
less wet mass OF India rubber boots,
shirt add pants. drenched and splashed
with yellow mud. The man was once a
spruce clerk n a New England store.
Al seventeen the set and whIteness OF
his collars, the it g MS boots. the ar-
q hai- and neckUe were sub
Iecss OF long AM painful consideration
before the mirror He had ms chosen
one among the village girls. he saw hsr
home from the sunday even
ng prayer meetings The great gold
.eveT or lSsS seized him Re saw Il