This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1905 edition. Excerpt: ... nothing here This isn't the West, sir, remarked a sleek, well-dressed man who had slipped into the vacant chair. Such liberality as you display is very common in your section of the country, I am told. Great place this? Yes? I daresay you have much better ones out West. Dr. Doo-da-day fixed his eyes on the stranger and took a pull at his beer. Sonny, what do you think of that bunch? he asked Harry, in a voice loud enough to be heard a dozen tables away. Young King Brady, who instantly recognized the man as a well-known bunco steerer, must have rather surprised him by his answer. What do I think of him? he replied. I think he's on the bum. He looks to me like the picture of Curly George, the bunco man what I seen in the Police Recorder the other day. The bunco man actually blushed. Do you mean to insult me? he cried. You git roared the doctor, reaching behind him. No buttin' in Curly George--for the man was no one else--instantly faded away. Nothing doin', Old King Brady heard him whisper to a green goods man at the next table to where he sat. I believe that young cowpuncher is nothing but a city detective in disguise. The long overture which the orchestra had very creditably rendered was finished now and Dr. Doo-da-day started a fresh sensation on his own account. Hold on, thar, you fiddlers and horn-blowers '-' he yelled, springing to his feet. Yer a blame good bunch Ketch the yaller birds Here they go Whoop I'm Dr. Doo-da-day The doctor had thrust his hand into his pocket while speaking and now he began throwing five-dollar goldpieces upon the raised platform which the musicians were...