t
reviving at this new point of view. It was not far down the bluff road
to the squalid little village which had naturally developed in close
proximity to the fort--near enough for protection, yet far enough
removed to be lawless--a rough frontier outpost town, of shacks and
tents, most of these dispensing vile liquors. Among these, more
enterprising spirits--hopeful of future development--had erected larger
buildings, usually barn-like, with false fronts facing the single main
street, filled with miscellaneous stocks of goods or used for purposes
not so legitimate. One of these housed the "Poodle Dog" saloon, with
gambling rooms above, while a few doors below was a great dance hall,
easily converted into a theatre if occasion arose,--a grotesque,
one-storied monstrosity. Below these was the stage office, built
against the three-storied wooden hotel, which boasted of a wide porch
on two sides, and was a picture of ugliness.

By daylight all was squalor and dirt, dingy tents flapping in the
ceaseless wind, unpainted shacks, wooden houses with boards warping
under the hot sun, the single street deep in yellow dust, the
surrounding prairie littered with tin cans, and all manner of debris.
But with the coming of night much of this roughness departed. Soldiers
from the garrison on pass, idle plainsmen, bull-whackers, adventurers
of all kinds stranded here because of Indian activity, stray cowboys
from the nearby valleys, thronged the numerous dives, seeking
excitement. Women, gaudy of dress, shrill of voice, flitted from door
to door through the jostling crowds. Lamps blazed over the motley
assembly, loud-voiced barkers yelled, and a band added its discords to
the din. The "Poodle Dog" glared in light, resounded with noise; lamps
gleamed from the hotel windows, and the huge dance hall stood wide
open. Out from the shacks and tents crept the day's sleepers for a
night of revelry; along the trails rode others eager for excitement; it
was the harvest-time of those birds of prey in saloon and gambling hell.

Hamlin saw all this, but gave the surroundings little thought. He was
of the West, of the frontier, and beheld nothing unique in the scene.
Moreover, the purpose for which he was there overshadowed all else,
left him indifferent to the noise, the jostling, drunken crowd. Some
he met who knew him and called his name, but he passed them with a
word, and pressed his way forward. At the hotel he mounted the steps
a