The numerous gas-lamps served only to show more clearly a long line of wooden houses, each with its veranda facing the street, unkempt and dirty.
As they approached the centre of the town the scene was brightened by a row of well-lit stores, and even more by a cluster of saloons and gaming houses, in which the miners spent their hard-earned but generous wages.
"That's the Union House," said the guide, pointing to one saloon which rose almost to the dignity of being a hotel.

"Jack McGinty is the boss there." "What sort of a man is he ?" McMurdo asked.
"What! have you never heard of the boss ?" "How could I have heard of him when you know that I am a stranger in these parts ?" "Well, I thought his name was known clear across the country.

It's been in the papers often enough." "What for ?" "Well," the miner lowered his voice--"over the affairs." "What affairs ?" "Good Lord, mister! you are queer, if I must say it without offense.
There's only one set of affairs that you'll hear of in these parts, and that's the affairs of the Scowrers." "Why, I seem to have read of the Scowrers in Chicago.

A gang of murderers, are they not ?" "Hush, on your life!" cried the miner, standing still in alarm, and gazing in amazement at his companion.

"Man, you won't live long in these parts if you speak in the open street like that.