Page:The Valley of Fear.pdf/175

Rh his monstrous excavations. But the town showed a dead level of mean ugliness and squalor. The broad street was churned up by the traffic into a horrible rutted paste of muddy snow. The sidewalks were narrow and uneven. The numerous gas-lamps served only to show more clearly a long line of wooden houses, each with its veranda facing the street, unkempt and dirty.

As they approached the center of the town the scene was brightened by a row of well-lit stores, and even more by a cluster of saloons and gaming houses, in which the miners spent their hard-earned but generous wages.

“That’s the Union House,” said the guide, pointing to one saloon which rose almost to the dignity of being a hotel. “Jack McGinty is the boss there.”

“What sort of a man is he?” McMurdo asked.

“What! have you never heard of the boss?”

“How could I have heard of him when you know that I am a stranger in these parts?”

“Well, I thought his name was known clear across the country. It’s been in the papers often enough.”

“What for?” [173]