Deadwood Dick, The Prince of the Road | Page 7

curses; full of foul atmospheres, impregnated with the fumes of vile whisky, and worse tobacco, and full of sights and scenes, exciting and repulsive.
As we enter and work our way toward the center of the apartment, our attention is attracted by a coarse, brutal "tough," evidently just fresh in from the diggings; who, mounted on the summit of an empty whisky cask, is exhorting in rough language, and in the tones of a bellowing bull, to an audience of admiring miners assembled at his feet, which, by the way, are not of the most diminutive pattern imaginable. We will listen:
"Feller coots and liquidarians, behold before ye a real descendant uv Cain and Abel. Ye'll reckolect, ef ye've ever bin ter camp-meetin', that Abel got knocked out o' time by his cuzzin Cain, an becawse Abel war misproperly named, and warn't able when the crysis arriv ter defen' himsel' in an able manner.
"Hed he bin 'heeled' wi' a shipment uv Black Hills sixes, thet would hev enabled him to distinguish hisself fer superyer ability. Now, as I sed before, I'm a lineal descendant uv ther notorious Ain and Cable, and I've lit down hyar among ye ter explain a few p'ints 'bout true blessedness and true cussedness.
"Oh! brethern, I tell ye I'm a snorter, I am, when I git a-goin'--a wild screechin' cattymount, right down frum ther sublime spheres up Starkey--ar' a regular epizootic uv religyun, sent down frum clouddum and scattered permiscously ter ther forty winds uv ther earth."
We pass the "cattymount," and presently come to a table at which a young and handsome "pilgrim," and a ferret-eyed sharp are engaged at cards. The first mentioned is a tall, robust fellow, somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty-three years of age, with clear-cut features, dark lustrous eyes, and teeth of pearly whiteness. His hair is long and curling, and a soft brown mustache, waxed at the ends, is almost perfection itself.
Evidently he is of quick temperament, for he handles the cards with a swift, nervous dexterity that surprises even the professional sharp himself, who is a black, swarthy-looking customer, with "villain" plainly written in every lineament of his countenance; his eyes, hair, and a tremendous mustache that he occasionally strokes, are of a jetty black; did you ever notice it?--dark hair and complexion predominate among the gambling fraternity.
Perhaps this is owing to the condition of the souls of some of these characters.
The professional sharp in our case was no exception to the rule. He was attired in the hight of fashion, and the diamond cluster, inevitably to be found there, was on his shirt front; a jewel of wonderful size and brilliancy.
"Ah! curse the luck!" exclaimed the sharp, slapping down the cards; "you have won again, pilgrim, and I am five hundred out. By the gods, your luck is something astonishing!"
"Luck!" laughed the other, coolly: "well, no. I do not call it luck, for I never have luck. We'll call it chance!"
"Just as you say," growled the gambler, bringing forth a new pack. "Chance and luck are then twin companions. Will you continue longer, Mr.----"
"Redburn," finished the pilgrim.
"Ah! yes--Mr. Redburn, will you continue?"
"I will play as long as there is anything to play for," again finished Mr. R., twisting the waxed ends of his mustache calmly. "Maybe you have got your fill, eh?"
"No; I'll play all night to win back what I have lost."
A youth, attired in buck-skin, and apparently a couple of years younger than Redburn, came sauntering along at this juncture, and seeing an unoccupied chair at one end of the table (for Redburn and the gambler sat at the sides, facing each other), he took possession of it forthwith.
"Hello!" and the sharp swore roundly. "Who told you to mix in your lip, pilgrim?"
"Nobody, as I know of. Thought I'd squat right here, and watch your sleeves!" was the significant retort, and the youth laid a cocked six-shooter on the table in front of him.
"Go on, gentlemen; don't let me be the means of spoiling your fun."
The gambler uttered a curse, and dealt out the pasteboards.
The youth was watching him intently, with his sharp black eyes.
He was of medium hight, straight as an arrow, and clad in a loose-fitting costume. A broad sombrero was set jauntily upon the left side of his head, the hair of which had been cut close down to the scalp. His face--a pleasant, handsome, youthful face--was devoid of hirsute covering, he having evidently been recently handled by the barber.
The game between Mr. Redburn and the gambler progressed; the eyes of he whom we have just described were on the card sharp constantly.
The cards went down on the table in vigorous slaps, and at last, Mr. Pilgrim Redburn raked in the stakes.
"Thunder 'n' Moses!" ejaculated the sharp, pulling out his watch--an elegant affair, of pure