has been something more than wonderful, every stage coming in
overcharged with feverish passengers, and from two to a dozen trains
arriving daily.

Of course Deadwood receives a larger share of all this
immigration--nothing is more natural, for the young metropolis of the
hills is _the_ miner's rendezvous, being in the center of the best
yielding locates.

Every person in Deadwood can tell you where the "Met" is, as it is
general head-quarters.

We mount the mud-splashed steps and disappear behind the screen that
stands in front of the door. Then the merry clink of glasses, snatches
of ribald song, and loud curses from the polluted lips of some wretch
who has lost heavily at the gaming-table, reach our hearing, while our
gaze wanders over as motley a crowd as it has ever been our fortune to
behold.

Men from the States--lawyers, doctors, speculators, adventurers,
pilgrims, and dead-beats; men from the western side of the Missouri;
grisly miners from Colorado; hunters and trappers from Idaho and
Wyoming; card sharps from Denver and Fr'isco; pickpockets from St. Joe
and bummers from Omaha--all are here, each one a part of a strange and
on the whole a very undesirable community.

Although the dance has been suspended, that does not necessitate the
discharge of the brazen-faced girls, and they may yet be seen here
with the rest mingling freely among the crowd.

Seated at a table in a somewhat retired corner, were two persons
engaged at cards. One was a beardless youth attired in buck-skin, and
armed with knife and pistols; the other a big, burly tough from the
upper chain--grisly, bloated and repulsive. He, too, was nothing short
of a walking arsenal, and it was plain to see that he was a desperate
character.

The game was poker. The youth had won three straight games and now
laid down the cards that ended the fourth in his favor.

"You're flaxed ag'in, pardner!" he said, with a light laugh, as he
raked in the stakes. "This takes your all, eh?"

"Every darned bit!" said the "Cattymount"--for it was he--with an
oath. "You've peeled me to ther hide, an' no mistake. Salivated me'
way out o' time, sure's thar ar' modesty in a bar-girl's tongue!"

The youth laughed. "You are not in luck to-night. Maybe your luck will
return, if you keep on. Haven't you another V?"

"Nary another!"

"Where's your pard, that got salted the other night?"

"Who--Chet Diamond? Wal, hee's around heer, sum'ars, but I can't borry
none