yin' to start home
to-night. We couldn't get off without somebody knowin' about it, and I
don't want any cutthroat Indians after me. If we had fresh horses it'd
be a different thing. We'd lead 'em a run for the farm. But the ponies
are tired. We'll start home in the mornin', and I'll get this wad into a
safe at the station before night." He tapped his belt.

A knock brought him to his feet. On opening the door, the hotel man
stood before him. "I suppose you folks want a brace of rooms," he said,
taking in the revolvers with a swift glance of his little, deep-set
eyes. "I can give you two that have a door between. Only ones I've got
left. Had to put Pinky Jackson into the barn to clear one of 'em. And
he's a reg'lar boarder, too." He looked the little girl up and down so
searchingly that she shrank behind the eldest brother.

The eldest brother took up his revolvers. "One room'll do us," he said.
"We'll jus' camp like we did on the prairie last night. Sister's a
little bit nervous; couldn't think of puttin' her off by herself. Give
us a room with a shake-down, and I'll roll up in some blankets on the
floor."

The hotel man slapped the eldest brother on the back. "You're the right
kind of a brother," he cried heartily; "like to see it. We men kind o'
forget, living out in these wilds, how scarey and tender girls are. Come
along, I've got the very room for you." He picked up the lamp, crossed
the crowded saloon, between card-tables full of men, and led the way
down a long passage. The eldest brother and the little girl followed
close at his heels, scarcely giving a glance to the gaping crowd in the
bar.

The room into which they were shown was at the very end of the passage
and in the rear part of the house. It was uncarpeted, and its ceiling
was so low that the eldest brother could reach up and touch it with the
flat of his hand. A wide, rough bedstead occupied one side; against the
opposite wall stood a cot of the kind used in military camps. A chair
with a rawhide bottom completed the furniture. The door from the passage
was the only one leading into the room. There were no windows at all,
but at one end a casing had been boarded up. The eldest brother, after a
quick survey, remarked the lack of light.

"Well, you see," explained the hotel man, "this room originally looked
out on the yard. But when I built on a lean-to, the window was closed.
Won't make any difference to you, will it? Heard you were going to leave