Strolling into one of these brilliantly lighted dens of iniquity, you'll find every known gambling device under the sun. "Dice throwing," "21," "Faro," "Roulette," "Poker"--they are all there, and many others. The Indian, Chinaman, Mexican and American all play at the same table, and unless you are a good poker player you had better stay out of the game. In these games the ante is seldom less than $1.00. The people in the Far West talk but little while the game is going on. There is no wrangling or misunderstanding. The cards are dealt quickly and deftly, and without a word the betting begins. Sometimes the pot swells to a thousand dollars or more, but even then the same quiet among the players prevails. The winner hardly smiles as he pockets his money, and the loser, if he goes broke, quietly gives up his seat and some other gentleman takes a hand. On the 10th and 12th of every month the mines around Bisbee pay out to the employees the sum of $70,000, so it is no wonder the gambling halls do a good business. There are no one cent pieces used in Bisbee, (not even in the post-office); nothing less than five cents. Bartenders in Bisbee receive $6.00 for an eight-hour shift serving drinks. There are no colored people in Bisbee. Board and room can be obtained for $30.00 per month and up. Clothing cost but little more than in the East. CHAPTER VII. _Get a Job in a Law Office--Dirty, Ragged Clothes Put Off--Smallpox Starts Me Off Again._ It was an afternoon in July that I strolled into Bennett & Williams' law office on Brewery Gulch and asked for a job. A sign in the window read: "Stenographer Wanted." It was in response to this ad I had entered. Right here a description of me might not be out of place. My spring suit had been ruined, and long since discarded for a suit of overalls that I had purchased in Dallas. Hard knocks had rent them in several places, and they were full of train grease. My shoes were worn completely out. For a hat I was wearing a wide-brimmed sombrero, purchased from a Mexican merchant at Alamogordo. I was strapped again, but that was a thing I was getting used to. Taken all in all, I'm sure I looked anything but a stenographer. Williams was typewriting when I entered and asked for the job. He refused to look at the various references I produced, saying they would have no weight with him, but glancing up at me, broke out into a broad smile. "So you are a shorthand writer, eh! Well, come back to-morrow morning and I'll give you a trial," was the promise, but it was quite easy to see he thought I was more of a tramp than a shorthand writer. Needless to say, though, I went back at the appointed time, and though I failed miserably in getting down the first letters he dictated, I was given the job. "You'll soon get back in practice," he said, "and when you do, your salary will be $125.00 per month."