In his explorations Ben came to a showy building which seemed a
center of attraction. It seemed well filled, and people were
constantly coming in and going out. Ben's curiosity was excited.
"What is that?" he asked of a man who lounged outside, with a
Mexican sombrero on his head and his hands thrust deep in his
pockets.
"That's the Bella Union, my chicken."
"I don't know any better now."
"Just go in there with a pocketful of gold-dust, like I did, and
you'll find out, I reckon."
"Is it a gambling-house?" inquired Ben, rather excited, for he had
heard much of such places, but never seen one.
"It's the devil's den," said the man bitterly. "I wish I'd never
seen it."
"Have you been unlucky?"
"Look here, boy, jest look at me," said the stranger. "An hour ago I
was worth a thousand dollars in gold-dust-took six months' hard work
to scrape it together at the mines-now I haven't an ounce left."
"Did you lose it there?" asked Ben, somewhat startled.
"Well, I staked it, and it's gone."
"Have you nothing left?"
"Not an ounce. I haven't enough to pay for a bed."
"What will you do for a place to sleep?" inquired Ben, to whom this
seemed an alarming state of things.
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