of his friend.

And the teamster had forgotten to send money home.

And his comrade had neglected to settle for the suit of clothes he was
wearing.

And Bandy, for all his vows, had gone straight for bucking the tiger.

And Frank, who had gotten drunk last pay-day, had been mindful of wife
and little girl far away and had done his duty.

As the spirit of the gangs changed with the coming of the gold, so did
that of the day.

The wind began to blow, the dust began to fly, the sun began to burn;
and the freshness and serenity of the morning passed.

Main street in Benton became black-streaked with men, white-sheeted with
dust. There was a whining whistle in the wind as it swooped down. It
complained; it threatened; it strengthened; and from the heating desert
it blew in stiflingly hot. A steady tramp, tramp, tramp rattled the
loose boards as the army marched down upon Benton. It moved slowly,
the first heave of a great mass getting under way. Stores and shops,
restaurants and hotels and saloons, took toll from these first comers.
Benton swallowed up the builders as fast as they marched from the
pay-train. It had an insatiable maw. The bands played martial airs, and
soldiers who had lived through the Rebellion felt the thrill and the
quick-step and the call of other days.

Toward afternoon Benton began to hurry. The hour was approaching when
crowded halls and tents must make room for fresh and unspent gangs. The
swarms of men still marched up the street. Benton was gay and noisy and
busy then. White shirts and blue and red plaid held their brightness
despite the dust. Gaudily dressed women passed in and out of the halls.
All was excitement, movement, color, merriment, and dust and wind and
heat. The crowds moved on because they were pushed on. Music, laughter,
shuffling feet and clinking glass, a steady tramp, voices low and voices
loud, the hoarse brawl of the barker--all these varying elements merged
into a roar--a roar that started with a merry note and swelled to a
nameless din.

The sun set, the twilight fell, the wind went down, the dust settled,
and night mantled Benton. The roar of the day became subdued. It
resembled the purr of a gorging hyena. The yellow and glaring
torches, the bright lamps, the dim, pale lights behind tent walls, all
accentuated the blackness of the night and filled space with shadows,
like specters. Benton's streets were full of drunken men, staggering
back along the road upon whi