another.

Nightly the majority of the miners come in from such claims as are
within a radius of from six to ten miles, and seldom is it that they
go away without their "load." To be sure, there are some men in
Deadwood who do not drink, but they are so few and scattering as to
seem almost entirely a nonentity.

It was midnight, and Deadwood lay basking in a flood of mellow
moonlight that cast long shadows from the pine forest on the peaks,
and glinted upon the rapid, muddy waters of Whitewood creek, which
rumbles noisily by the infant metropolis on its wild journey toward
the south.

All the saloons and dance-houses are in full blast; shouts and maudlin
yells rend the air. In front of one insignificant board,
"ten-by-twenty," an old wretch is singing out lustily:

"Right this way ye cum, pilgrims, ter ther great Black Hills Thee'ter;
only costs ye four bits ter go in an' see ther tender sex, already
a-kickin' in their striped stockin's; only four bits, recollect, ter
see ther greatest show on earth, so heer's yer straight chance!"

But, why the use of yelling? Already the shanty is packed, and judging
from the thundering screeches and clapping of hands, the entertainment
is such as suits the depraved tastes of the ruffianly "bums" who have
paid their "four bits," and gone in.

But look!