But there are some hundreds of things here that are strange to the eyes of an Eastern man. For example, in all his life he has never seen a man, outside a military encampment, with a revolver strapped in a holster to a belt around his waist. Perhaps he has never seen a faro game in his life, and chuck-a-luck is as mysterious to him as the lingo of the broad-hatted men who recommend it to the fortune-seeker instead of a gold mine or honest toil of any kind. He has never seen, much less heard of, a hurdy-gurdy where the men and the scarlet women "waltz to the bar" to the tune of the "Arkansaw Traveler." He used to see his Uncle Cyrus plow with a slow-plodding team of oxen among the cobble stones of a Vermont farm; but this is the first time in his life that he ever saw seven yokes of oxen hitched together in front of two big wagons and every team pacing a gait that would bring praise from the judge's stand at a county fair. He starts down the main street and he sees "The Gold Room" in big letters on a big wooden building. "This is where they keep it," he muses, and he goes in. It is where they sell it--"forty-rod," "squirrel" and the rest. But that is not all we see in the "Gold Room," run by Jack Allen. We also see a woman called Madam Moustache dealing the game of "twenty-one," at which "Wild Bill" Hickok, Texas Jack and a lot more celebrities are "sitting in." Then in another corner is a faro game. Men here are so eager to get their money on the cards that some of them are standing on the back rungs of chairs and reaching over sitting players to put stacks of golden twenties on the table, either "calling the turn" or betting that the nine-spot or some other card will win or lose as the dealer slips the paste-boards out of his silver box. It is night, of course, and after a while, when the gambling begins to drag, the tables are shoved a little closer to the wall and the big floor is given up to dancing, even though through it all--dancing and gambling--a stage performance is going on. Some painted female person of uncertain age, but positive reputation, is either shouting personalities at characters in the crowd or bellowing and butchering a popular song in a male voice. Smoke is thick and not fragrant to the nostrils of the new-comer--the tenderfoot. The "Gold Room" roof is also occupied--that is, the inside part of it--with boxes crowded with men and women, the women being known as "beer jerkers." In the early hours of morning it is difficult to find a sober man or woman. The same thing is going on in "McDaniels' Variety," opposite Tim Dyer's Tin Restaurant. McDaniels, bald-headed and also smooth of voice, is circulating around among his top-booted guests like a pastor among his flock, and you wonder that such a fine-looking, well-spoken man is not in a pulpit instead of a dive.