Dutch Jake's crib," replied Bob.

"That's good," continued the fiscal agent, "and I'll just drop in
to-night and see the madam. A little money will go a long way
with her, and in a case like this, the devil himself would be a
welcome ally. You boys stay in town as much as you can and keep
Tolleston snowed deep, and I'll take the buyers down the trail in
the morning and meet the herds coming up."

My brother returned to his camp, and Siringo and I separated for
the time being. In '84 Dodge, the Port Said of the plains, was in
the full flower of her wickedness. Literally speaking, night was
turned into day in the old trail town, for with the falling of
darkness, the streets filled with people. Restaurants were
crowded with women of the half-world, bar-rooms thronged with the
wayfaring man, while in gambling and dance halls the range men
congregated as if on special invitation. The familiar bark of the
six-shooter was a matter of almost nightly occurrence; a dispute
at the gaming table, a discourteous word spoken, or the rivalry
for the smile of a wanton was provocation for the sacrifice of
human life. Here the man of the plains reverted to and gave
utterance to the savagery of his nature, or, on the other hand,
was as chivalrous as in the days of heraldry.

I knew the town well, this being my third trip over the trail,
and mingled with the gathering throng. Near midnight, and when in
the Lady Gay dance-hall, I was accosted by Dorg Seay and the
detective. They had just left Dutch Jake's, and reported all
quiet on the Potomac. Seay had not only proved himself artful,
but a good fellow, and had unearthed the fact that Tolleston had