Of course, curiosity soon induced him to roam about the town. It was composed of extemporaneous structures, for the town was as yet in its infancy, and built somewhat on the plan of Cheyenne, and other towns which he had seen along the Union Pacific road. The town lots had been staked out sixty by one hundred and fifty feet in size, and the principal street, which had been named after General Crook, was two hundred feet wide. Other streets were a hundred and fifty feet wide. The "city" was certainly of mushroom growth, not less than four hundred buildings having been erected in a single month.
To Paul everything seemed new, strange, and delightful. It was a state of society to which he had not been accustomed, and excited his curiosity and interest. He found that fashionable attire was not at all required in Custer City. Men went about dressed like day laborers of the humblest sort, who at home had been accustomed to the comforts and refinements of life. Everything was free and unconventional, and so everybody felt thoroughly independent.
Some of the leading citizens lived in Jim Scott's hotel, which was pretty well filled.
Occupying a room just opposite Paul's was a small, elderly man, with stiff, gray hair, a wizened face, and crafty eyes.
"Who is my opposite neighbor, Jim?" asked Paul, with some curiosity.
"Oh, that's old Fox—Simeon Fox."
Paul pricked up his ears. He remembered that Mr. Bradford's partner in the Blackstone mine bore the name of Fox. If this was the man, he didn't doubt from his looks that he was capable of outwitting and swindling his employer. He didn't think it politic, however, just at present to show any particular interest in the man.
"What is his business?" inquired Paul, in an indifferent tone.
"He is part owner of one of our best mines."
"What is the name of the mine?"