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Show WASHOE WINTER Every day the f a l l of 1878 Bill had hunted the country around Blue Burg mining camp. He had passed the Dream Mine cabin early this morning, seen the old horse harnessed and hitched to a loaded wagon as though ready to t r a v e l , but hadn't seen or heard the young couple who lived there with t h e i r baby. They'd never been friendly, but would c a l l hello to Bill when they f i r s t arrived in June. As the season wore on, though, they had been keeping t h e i r distance. Early in the morning, if he passed t h e i r cabin, he'd often see them going down-hill to the Dream Mine-a timbered-up short tunnel in the bank above the r i v e r . Or, if Bill passed l a t e r in the day, he'd usually see them working the rocker they'd rigged up just below the mine on the river-the woman pouring the x*ater, the husband shovelling into i t the gravel they'd dug out of the mine, and t h e i r baby propped up close by. They hadn't turned to say hello since, oh, maybe, the 2&st of August. I t was now the middle of October and Bill walked on |