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Show 139 facades a l l looked the same: two-storied wooden fronts with ornate balconies, and large bay windows inscribed with their names. They a l l looked the same inside, too, except for the stuffed moose heads in the Pioneer and the nude murals in the Flora Dora. "This i s no place for a princess," Caribou said, wincing at the murals. Inside each saloon we headed straight for the dance hall where miners lined up a t one dollar a dance for a short whirl around the sawdust floor. Almost as soon as a pretty g i r l was in a man's arms, a c a l l e r would shout, "Belly up to the bar, now." As the miner drank, the pretty g i r l collected her commission from the bartender-a small ivory disk which she tucked in her stockings. Then with a radiant smile-and lumpy legs-she reached out for her next partner. We found Tip i n the Monte Carlo, whirling in the arms of a squatty, red-bearded miner. Her feathered pompadour rested on his shoulder. Caribou began snorting like an enraged bull and his cheeks turned flame-red. " I ' l l get her," I whispered, grabbing his arm. "You're too mad." I pushed through the dancers and tapped her on the shoulder. "Come on, Tip. Let's get out of here." She looked up s t a r t l e d. |