CHAPTER XXVIII
GOPHERTOWN
Some towns "nestle" on the plain. Others, more aspiring, "roost" in the hills. Gophertown squatted on the desert at the very edge of a range of barren foothills. Its principal street was not much more than a bridle-trail that led past eleven ramshackle cabins, derelicts of the old mining days when Gophertown knew gold.
The population of Gophertown was of an itinerant order. This was not always due to internecine disputes. Frequently a citizen became overbold and visited his old haunts instead of remaining safely, even if monotonously, at home. Train robbery was a sure passport to Gophertown's protection. Man-killing lent an added distinction to an applicant for hurried admission. Cattle-and horse-thieving were mere industries not to be confounded with these higher professions.
Overland Red had once wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous to his arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in an unofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The town of Abilene had sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him to absent himself indefinitely and within the hour.
The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at the corner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign once read, "Palace Emporium." The letters now seemed to be shrinking from public gaze—vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves. The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferently punctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, and passed on.
Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions were occasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots. There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. There was no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure in itself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemies by instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputes single-handed.