put for timber, and
we'll have another up by sunset."

Bill and his companion dismounted, removed their blankets, arms, and
saddle-bags into the house, gave up the horses and were at home. It did
not take long to settle there.

* * * * * * * *

Night had fallen on the town of Deadwood, but not the calm which
generally comes with night where the laborer is but too glad to greet
the hour of rest. Lights flashing through chinks in rude cabins, lights
shimmering through canvas walls, songs, shouts, laughter, curses, and
drunken yells made the place seem like a pandemonium on earth.

Almost every other structure, either tent, cabin, or more pretentious
framed house, was either a saloon or gambling-hell, or both combined.
And all these seemed full. The gulches, sinks, and claims that had been
the scene of busy labor all the day were now deserted, and the gold just
wrenched from the bowels of the earth was scattered on the gambling
table, or poured into the drawer of the busy rumseller.

At this same hour, a man rode into the edge of the town on a noble black
horse, leading a tired mustang. Both of these animals he staked out in a
patch of grass, leaving the saddles on, and the bridles hanging to the
saddle-bow of each. Then he placed his rifle against a tree near by,
took the old cartridges out of a six-shooter and put in fresh ones. This
done with the greatest deliberation, he pulled his slouch hat well over
his face, entered the nearest saloon, threw down a silver dollar, and
called for brandy.

A bottle and glass were set before him. He filled the glass to the brim,
drank it off, and walked out.

"Here, you red-haired cuss, here!" cried the bar-keeper. "Here's a half
comin' to you; we only charge half-price when it goes by wholesale!"

The joke fell useless, for the red-haired man had not remained to hear
it.

In the largest hall in the place, a heavy gambling game was going on.
There was roulette, faro, and monte, all at different points.

Before the faro-table there was the greatest gathering.

Wild Bill, furnished with money by the person known to us so far as
Willie Pond, was "bucking against the bank" with, his usual wonderful
luck, and the crowd centered around him as a character more noted and
better known than any other who had yet come to Deadwood.

"I'll bet my whole pile on the jack!" shouted Wild Bill, who had taken
enough strong drink to fit him for anything.

"Do be careful, Bill--do be caref