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Jason C Hobart, Boulder

May God watch over these brave toilers of the mountains

No matter how many times Donner's eyes traveled over the old news type, they always ca miners Slowly, like a man in a trance, he laid the paper in his lap, picked up the phone and dialed long distance

14

"The Monte Cristo!" Harry Young exclaihtedly "I heartily endorse the Monte Cristo The Roquefort dressing is also excellent But first, I'd like a martini, very dry, with a twist"

"Monte Cristo sandwich and Roquefort on your salad Yes, sir," the young waitress repeated, bending over the table so that her short skirt rode up to reveal a pair of white panties "And you, sir?"

"I'll take the same" Donner nodded "Only I'll start with a Manhattan on the rocks"

Young peered over the top of his glasses as the waitress hurried to the kitchen "If only so

Young was a skinny little man In decades past he would have been called an overdressed, silly old fool Noas an alert, eager-faced seventy-eight-year-old bon vivant with a practiced eye for beauty He sat across the booth table from Donner in a blue turtleneck and patterned, doubleknit sportscoat

"Mr Donner!" he said happily "This is indeed a pleasure The Broker is my favorite restaurant" He waved his hand at the walnut-paneled walls and booths "This was once a bank vault, you know"

"So I noticed when I had to duck through the five-ton door"

"You should coive you an enormous tray of shriht

"I'll bear that

in mind on my next visit"

"Well, sir" Young looked at him steadily "What's on your mind?"