KNOCKER IS
LAID TO REST
His Name, However, WiH'Go Thun
dering Down the Ages.
The “Post Knocker” is dead! The
last sad rites were held over his remains
Saturday night.
A hay vote of the post was taken, and
by unanimous vote it was decided the
Knocker must go where knockers belong.
Brinke stuffed the ballot box in a most
shameless manner, and .300 votes were
thrown out as a result. Still there were
enough left to carry the day for the in
surgents.
All agreed that a reorganization under
the anti-trusting law was necessary. So
the Knocker was led out behind the post
barn and shot.
A detail ot 65 men were supplied with
blank cartridges—all except one.
The poor Knocker, tethered to a fence
post, was shaking in his shoes. He beg
ged for mercy, but in vain.
With a long, reverberating sound the
65 guns belched forth their deadly mis
sies of powder and wads.
The lone bullet shattered the post and
struck the Knocker speechless. With a
triumphant yell the army broke ranks
and fled for the canteen—all except 40,
who bravely stood by their guns.
Their bravery was rewarded by a won
derful sight: for, lo! and behold! a
quick-eyed, handsome youth was seen
to emerge from the brush heap where
the Knocker lay. He had the graceful
ligure of Sergt. Woofter and the winning
smile of the “Bum.” He was dressed
in emaculate white duck, and apparent
ly had just had a close shave at the
hands of the company L barber.
The Knocker had done the Ponce de
Leon act, and the Jekyll-Hyde transfor
mation was complete. He passed down
the long line of awe-inspired men, who
saluted, bowed and scraped in humble
submission.
As he passed through the gate of the
post he quickened his step. He was
seen to enter the Yukon Valley News
office, and presently he appeared at the
typewriter keys and began pounding out
j THE ANYIL CHORDS
Woofter and MaeCloud, of the wireless,
think they are fire fighters. Recently
they saw smoke towards town. Each
grabbed an armful of fire extinguishers
and waddled across lots as best they
could. Woofter declared Woodsawyer
Ole’s gasoline was exploding. He knew
it by the color of the smoke. They found
Wm. Davis burning some old copies of
the News, but they emptied the contents
of all the extinguishers on the burning
papers just the same—so no one would
laugh. When they returned home, Mac
assumed that bid-woman attitude of “I
told you so,” saying he knew all the
time it was not gasoline by the color of
the smoke!
MaeCloud has been hinting for a free
copy of the paper, claiming he is an old
newspaper man. From an old carpet
bag he dragged forth a bundle of busi
ness cards, neatly tied with a yellow
cigar box ribbon. He selected the clean
est one with great deliberation, and
passed it to the “Anvil Chorister.” It
read: “Joseph Angelieus MaeCloud,
STAMPEDE ON TO
PROSPECT CREEK
Lockhead & Hogan Secure 10-cent Pans in
Shallow Ground Near Fish Lake.
Three Feet of Pay.
Gold lias been struck on Prospect creek, four miles
above Fish Lake on the Hot Springs trail, and a stam
pede has occurred from Hot Springs and Sullivan.
This is the news brought to Tanana recently by Billy
Corning, the mail carrier.
Corning says the strike was made by Tom Lockhead
and his partner, Hogan.
The ground is shallow—about 15 feet to bedrock.
The men have sunk nine holes, finding three feet of pay.
The pans average 10 cents. The creek is about 14 miles
long.
representing the Columbus (Neb.) Tri
bune.” It seems he made speeches to
the farmers at the cross corners, ending
up by getting a subscription—or not.
He’d give away a year’s'subscription for
two meals, a drink of water, and the
privilege of sleeping in the barn. One
day he asked for an extra bite, and just
then the farmer’s dog chewed his leg a
little. Mac flew to arms, and he is still
in the service.
Lydia Pinkham had his beard trim
med without taking gas.
“Dippy Proctor, the bathhouse cub,”
may be “milled” for passing “bum
greens.” He is flashing canteen check
book covers for “fivers.”
“The Bum” ate $9.45 worth of the $11
cake Aleck won at the A. B. ball. Bum
was implicated in pulling the “Anvil
Chorister out of the brushheap. Aleck
stuck the cake in the Golden North win
dow and offered to sell it for $11.50, eat
ing a chunk out of it first. Somebody
swiped the cake when Aleck was sling
ing soup.
Tom Tolbert waited patiently for the
presents he wanted for his birthday.
He had made out a list and sent it up
the chimney for Santa Claus. Some
one who owed him four-bits left a half
pint of fiiewater on Tom’s doorstep at
night, and then ran. Tom, who had
been greatly dejected, was now over
joyed. He hustled it over the border,
for holding dangerous weapons in the
confines of the post is strictly prohibited.
Corp. Brinkley is dowTn the pole. The
water-wagon is frozen up, Corp, but the
water is still running under the ice in
the Yukon.
Your credit is good with the News un
til next payday.
The “Bird” wants his name mention
ed every week. The owl hoots “me too!”
To avoid disappointment, see that you
leave your orders for Christmas presents
early.—Geo. Bemis, the live jeweler.
Just the Thing for
the Baldheads
New York, Nov. 17—The latest hirsute
makeup for women consists of a turban
frame covered with sleeky, smooth or
softly-waved hair and long switches or
thick plaits to be coiled round the frame
so as to practically cover the head. El
aborate artificial curls help out things,
bobbing up and down when the wearer
walks fast or dances. Women look too
top-heavy with this new coiffure, but it’s
the fashion and that’s sufficient.
8,000 Feet in Air.
New York, Nov. 17.—Aviator Ralph
Johnstone broke all records for height
when he attained 8,400 feet here. Both
Brekins and LeBlanc were seriously in
jured by falls at Belmont park. Brekins
before he fell, covered nine miles in
eight minutes—a new record.
WOOD! WOOD!
Best Quality
All Lengths
Prompt Delivery
Prices Reasonable
JOHN REILLY
Leave orders at Vachon’s or News office
r DO YOU know!
| We are making Special \
< Prices >
ON LIQUORS ?
|THE NORTHERN
^STODDARD_
ONLY PAY TUB
IN TANANA
Jack Cavanaugh Taking the Place
of the Gold Dust Twins.
(By “The Chorister.”)
Jack Cavanaugh, Xanana’s health of
ficer, is winning fame by having the
only pay-a-dollar bath tub in town.
When Williams left for the Iditarod
with his tub, Jack came to the rescue.
He wired to Dawson for a tub but failed
to get one. He finally secured one at
Fairbanks.
It is now situated in the rear of the
Gibbon barber shop. Two beer taps of
the old Floradora dance hall in Fair
banks which Cavanaugh ran, belch forth
hot water when coaxed sufficiently. A
powerful sluicehead is provided by an
old beer keg hanging from the ceiling.
The tub is perched up high like a
throne. You ascend to it by an old
cracker box, a pair of stairs and a ladder.
The bathroom is enclosed by a screen.
A cheery effect is produced by the deli
cately “hewed” japer of oriental de
sign, furnished by Lee & Wing. Drag
ons, teacups and whirligig designs are
pasted on the paper in great profusion.
Taken, all in all, its an art gallery in
itself.
LIKE PBE8EKVER8.
The tub is provided with one of those
detachable seats so you can hang on if
the water gets too deep. You bring your
own scrub-brush, but Jack keeps on
hand a piece of soap and one or two tow
els, however, to be used if needed.
Rockwell drums up trade. Every
morning he climbs up the ladder into
the tub. Whenever the door creaks he
cranes his neck over the framework, and
if its a man who looks as if lie needed a
bath, Rock, splashes around ami sings
out, “come on in, boys, the water’s
fine!”
The invitation has the desired effect,
and every day 40 or 50 (more or less)
climb the ladder and climb down again,
murmuring “cleanliness is next to—the
ceiling.”
Rockwell keeps a stock of cigars and
candy on hand for his own use. Noone
denies him this luxury. He’s doing a
great work. Peace be with him.
Warm Modern and
Reasonable Priced
ROOMS
AT THE
Tower House
JOE ANICICH,
Proprietor