Black Hills (S.D. and Wyo.) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction
After his exit, the dance was forgotten and an earnest discussion
raged. It was no light matter. Eleven men had invested heavily in
powder, fuse, drills, and windlasses for the purpose of fulfilling
their contract with Knapp; and they, and twenty-two others, had put in
their time for a number of months. Many of them owed for board or
materials. Others, though out of debt, had spent nearly all their
ready cash. They all seemed desperately close to bankruptcy, for
Lafond said nothing whatever respecting his agreement to pay the
contracts himself. And then again, as has been pointed out, the
well-being of the whole camp had depended intimately on the success of
its big mine, for the success of one enterprise like the Great Snake
draws other capital to the district, rendering possible the sale of
claims; while its failure always gives a bad name to a whole section.
So the ensuing discussion had plenty of interest for everybody.
Lafond, as the bearer of the tidings, was besieged with questions. He
was reluctant, but he answered. Besides, the facts were plain, ready
for interpretation. Nobody could help seeing that it was all Billy's
fault. After a time, poor Billy loomed large as a symbol of all the
camp's misfortune. After a little time more, when the bar had more
thoroughly done its work, a number became possessed of a desire to
abate Billy.
They seized torches and a rope, ran up the gulch, and beat in the door
of the office, only to encounter Billy enraged to the point of frenzy.
That individual rushed them out at the muzzle of a pistol, with such a
whirl of impetuous anger that it quite carried them off their feet,
after which he planted his back against the building and stood there in
the full light of the torches, reviling them. Why he was not shot I
cannot tell. Billy was something of a dominant spirit when roused.
That was the reason why, in the old days, he had made such a good
scout. After he had called them all the names he could think of, he
slammed the door on them. They went away without knowing why they did
so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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