They were rewarded by two or three specks of gold, and
seemed satisfied. 'Gene told us afterward that one of them was
an old California '49er, who had used the same pan in every
State and Territory of the West.
It was a little after noon when we drove into Deadwood--the
last point outward bound at which the Rattletrap expected to
touch. It was a larger town than Rapid City, and was wedged in a
little gulch between two mountains, with the White Wood Creek
rushing along and threatening to wash away the main street. We
noticed that the only way of reaching many of the houses on the
mountain-side was by climbing long flights of stairs. We drove
on, and camped near a mill on the upper edge of town.
In the afternoon we wandered about town, and, among other
places, visited the many Chinese stores. We also clambered up the
mountain-sides to the two cemeteries, which we could see far
above the town. It seemed to us that on rather too many of the
head-stones, (which were in nearly every case boards, by-the-way)
it was stated that the person whose grave it marked was
"assassinated by" so-and so, giving the name of the assassin; but
these were of the old days, when no doubt there were a good many
folks in Deadwood who left the town just as well off after they
had been assassinated.
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