Black Hills (S.D. and Wyo.) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- United States -- Fiction
The camp which was to be the scene of Lafond's operations and of the
girl's anticipated triumphs, lay between Ragged Top and Tom Custer. It
consisted of a double row of log cabins situated in the V of the deep
ravine. The men generally ate in the long dining-room of the hotel,
worked at prospecting in the hills, and spent their evenings in the
centrally situated Little Nugget saloon, the property of Michaïl Lafond.
The night of the half-breed's arrival the usual crowd was carrying on
the usual discussions on the usual subjects.
One fresh from the East entering the building would have been struck
first with the strangeness of the room. It was long and low, and on
three sides dark. Against the fourth wall was stretched tightly a
white cotton sheet, imitating plaster, in front of which stood the bar.
The bar was polished, narrow, with a foot rest in front and two towels
hanging from metal clasps just under the projecting eaves of it. It
had been brought in sections, by wagon, at considerable expense. Some
three feet behind the bar, stretched a shelf of the same height, towel
covered, on which stood four bottles in front of a little mirror. The
shelf was piled symmetrically with glasses of all shapes--tumblers,
ponies, fine-stemmed wineglasses--arranged in pyramids and squares.
They glittered in the glare of the lamps, and the indirect light from
the white sheet. A dim pink reflection was given back by the
mirror--dim and pink because the glass was draped with pink mosquito
bar. Overhead hung the sign which read, "To Trust is Bust."
Beneath the reflector of the largest lamp lounged the barkeeper reading
a paper. He had spread the paper on the bar, and, having crooked his
elbows out at wide angles around its margin, was bending his head of
straw-colored hair close over the print. He was dressed in white as to
the upper part of his body. Occasionally he read aloud in a monotone
from the paper. At other times his lips moved slowly, shaping the
invisible words as they took form in his sluggish brain.
"The latest creations in ties," he read, "are described by our buyer as
being natty effects in the narrow plaids."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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