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Updated: July 24, 2025
"I'm a preacher, but they thought they couldn't support a church at Bullionville," he added, with a look, half mirth, half worry, in his eyes. "However, a man from Fremont loaned us the horses and carriage, so we thought we'd move before the snow fell any deeper. I'd like to go on without great delay, if the mending can be hastened."
Bullionville, Promptly Dubbed by the American Boy "Souptown". Here They Found a Whole Little Village of German Dugouts. The Girls Who Came Down to Help in the St. Mihiel Drive. The Wrecked House in Neuvilly Where the Lassies Went to Sleep in the Cellar. The Wrecked Church in Neuvilly Where the Memorable Meeting Was Held. Right in the Midst of the Busy Hurrying Throng of Union Square.
The trenches in which they hid were covered over with boards and sand, and were not bomb proof, but they were proof against pieces of shell and shrapnel. It was a very busy time for the girls because so many different outfits were passing and repassing that they had to work from morning early till late at night. At Bullionville the hut was in a building that bore the marks of much shelling.
"It someway makes me think of a thing that occurred near Bullionville. I was called to Giant-Powder Gulch to give a man a decent burial. He had been on a three-days' spree, and then had lain all night in the wet where the horse-trough overflowed, and he died of quick pneumonia. Well, a man there told me the fellow was a stranger to the Gulch.
"Jim," said Stowe, in the easy way so quickly adopted in the mines, "how does the camp happen to have this one little child? There seem to be no families, and that I can understand, for Bullionville is much the same; but where did you get the pretty little boy?" "I found him out in the brush, way over to Coyote Valley," Jim replied.
You're needin' somethin' fixed, I see," and he nodded quietly towards a road-side job of mending at the doubletree, which was roughly wrapped about with rope. "Yes. Good-morning," said the driver of the rig, a clear-eyed, wholesome-looking man of clerical appearance. "We had a little accident. We've come from Bullionville. How long do you think it will take you to put us in shape?"
"Anything is medicine that a doctor prescribes, even if it's only sugar-and-water." "But there ain't a doctor into camp," objected Keno, hauling at his sleeves. "And the one they had in Bullionville has went away, and he was fifty miles from here." "I know," said Jim. "You don't think he's sick?" inquired Keno, anxiously.
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