News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1896-07-02
AUCTION At ROKER'S GULCH
BY WALLACE E. MATHER.


Roker's Gulch had no benevolent
societies or charitable organizations.
Every man hustled for himself; and
as they we're mostly young men, in
the prime of their strength, they were
able to do it satisfactorily; if not,
there was the almost invariablepart-
nership of two together, so that if i'll
luck befell one, the other looked out
for him.
This simple arrangement OF society
answered very we'll indeed for most
purposes; while the camp, as whole,
felt itself equal to special occasions of
any sort that might arise. Anything
that needed to be done, could be and
should be.
"Old Howe" was an exception at
Roker's. He was at least fifty years
old. He lived and worked alone. He
was a quiet man whom nobody knew
much about. Not that there was
any mystery connected with him;
there was not much to know.
He had failed in business a dozen
years or so, before, back in the
States" Then his wife had died. In
California anybody might find gold,
and so he came there to look for
some.
His one child, a girl of ten had put
her arms around his neck, and kissed
him good-by as be left her, promis.
ingto write to her and to send her
some of the gold. He had written
once or twice at first; then he waited
till he should find the gold to send
her; so he had never written to her
any more. Perhaps because his pur-
pose waited for fulfilment, he thought
OF her too, as waiting, child as he
had left her, not a groWn-up young
woman at all. When he spoke of her
it was always as his ''little gal"
After he had come to the noun
tains, he had drifted from place to
place. If he had never found alZ .--
thing of any dcc0unI, he had the
chronic expectation that possesses a
miner, which is neither hope nor en-
thusiasm, but ahabit that he cannot
break away from.
At last he had come to Roker's
Gulch. His dug-out cabin, mile
above the camp, was so much made
of stones and earth that it seemed a
part of the mountain side itself 1t
was mile above the camp, and the
last cabin at the Gulch, except one;
that one belonged to Jack Harling
and Burney Scott. These two were
coming down to camp one afternoon
swinging along the easy grade, with
the upgulch wind in their faces, and
the sharp click of their boot-heels
now and then on the stones.
Opposite Howe's cabin they glanced
at the opened door. They had not
seen him lately. They noticed him
sitting on stool before the fireplace,
which was just opposite the door
way.
They turned up to the place, Howe
did not move. "Hallo!' said Jack.
What's the NATTER"
Then the figure before them turned
slowly. Such a gray, hollow face!
"Mountian-fever," he said, with
effort.
He had been sick for a week, and
had just managed to get up and get
little fire started, in an attempt to
get something to eat. They brought
water, made coffee for him, and
promised to bring him supplies when
they came back.
The camp at Roker's Gulch had
one long street, across which the sa-
looms and stores stared at each other
and Wanted their rival attractions.
There we're plank sidewalks and irri-
cation bitches. The end of the side
walk in either direction was regarded
as the city limit.
whats your hurry b'ys?"
The voice came from just within
the door of Shag's Club House.
"Oh, hullo, Toni" said Burney, as
they wheeled about to face the
speaker.
"Hullo yourselves! And where
would We have got to if j hadn't
stopped ye?"
The speaker was "Big Tom"
O'Harra.
ABOUT down TO the corner, reck-
on" answered Jack, good-naturedly.
"Well, this is better than any cor
ner. Come in. The b'ys'll begin to
collect soon; it's a good place to
spend the evening""
'"Maybe it's as good as any for
what we want" responded Jack, as
they stepped in.
The room was large. The bar was
extensive, and snowy along one side
of it. just now, except the barten-
der, Big Tom was the only occupant.
He evidently felt the need of
society.
can what do you want?" he con-
tinued.
"The last news from Lone Pine"
Children Cry for