To Keith, whose former acquaintance with the place had been entirely after nightfall, the view of it now was almost a shock--the miserable shacks, the gaudy saloon fronts, the littered streets, the dingy, unpainted hotel, the dirty flap of canvas, the unoccupied road, the dull prairie sweeping away to the horizon, all composed a hideous picture beneath the sun glare.

He could scarcely find a man to attend his horse, and at the restaurant a drowsy Chinaman had to be shaken awake, and frightened into serving him.

He sat down to the miserable meal oppressed with disgust--never before had his life seemed so mean, useless, utterly without excuse.
He possessed the appetite of the open, of the normal man in perfect physical health, and he ate heartily his eyes wandering out of the open window down the long, dismal street.

A drunken man lay in front of the "Red Light" Saloon sleeping undisturbed; two cur dogs were snarling at each other just beyond over a bone; a movers' wagon was slowly coming in across the open through a cloud of yellow dust.

That was all within the radius of vision.