Before this he had been a gambler for the
sake of gambling, even a sportsman in his evil way; now he seemed
possessed of an unscrupulous intent, a strange, cold, devouring
passion to get gold and more gold--always more gold. Allie divined
evidence of this, saw it, heard it. The man had struck the descent,
and he was all the more dangerous for his lapse from his former
standards, poor as they had been.
Not a week had elapsed before the gambling-hell roared all night.
Allie got most of her sleep during the day. She tried to shut out
what sound she could, and tried to be deaf to the rest. But she had
to hear the angry brawls, pistol-shots, and shrill cries; yes, and
the trample of heavy boots as men dragged a dead gamester out to the
ditch.
Day was a relief, a blessing. Allie was frequently cooped up in her
narrow canvas-covered wagon, but she saw from there the life of the
grading camp.
There were various bosses--the boarding boss, who fed the laborers;
the stable boss, who had charge of the teams; the grading boss, who
ruled the diggers and scrapers; and the time-keeper boss, who kept
track of the work of all.
In the early morning a horde of hungry men stampeded the boarding-
tents where the cooks and waiters made mad haste to satisfy loud and
merry demands.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215