n to produce our
money, or part with it. Still, as I said a while since, it's best to
be cautious, and I see that you all are so. I begin to feel hungry,
gentlemen. How is it with you?"

"Are we anywhere near the place for supper?" asked Stiefel. "I wish I
could step into a good Broadway restaurant; I feel empty."

"Only a mile hence, gentlemen, we shall reach Echo Gulch, where we halt
for the night. There's a rude cabin there, where they will provide us
with supper and shelter."

This announcement gave general satisfaction. The colonel proved to be
right. The stage soon drew up in front of a long one-story building,
which bore the pretentious name of the Echo Gulch Hotel.

CHAPTER XXIII. A STARTLING REVELATION.

A stout, black-bearded man stood in front of the hotel to welcome
the stage passengers. He took a clay pipe from his lips and nodded a
welcome.

"Glad to see you, strangers," he said. "Here, Peter, you black rascal,
help the gentlemen with their baggage."

The door was thrown open, and the party filed into a comfortless looking
apartment, at one end of which was a rude bar.

One of the passengers, at least, seemed to know the landlord, for Col.
Warner advanced to greet him, his face beaming with cordiality.

"How are you, John?" he said. "How does the world use you?"

The landlord growled something inaudible.

"Have a drink, colonel?" was the first audible remark.

"Don't care if I do. It's confounded dry traveling over these mountain
roads. Walk up, gentlemen. Col. Warner doesn't drink alone."

With the exception of Herbert and George Melville, the passengers seemed
inclined to accept the offer.

"Come along, Melville," said the colonel; "you and your friend must join
us."

"Please excuse me, colonel," answered Melville. "I would prefer not to
drink."

"Oh, nonsense! To oblige me, now."

"Thank you; but I am traveling for my health, and it would not be
prudent."

"Just as you say, Melville; but a little whisky would warm you up and do
you good, in my opinion."

"Thank you all the same, colonel; but I think you must count me out."

The colonel shrugged his shoulders and beckoned Herbert.

"You can come, anyway; your health won't prevent."

Melville did not interfere, for he knew it would give offense, but he
hoped his young clerk would refuse.

"Thank you," said Herbert; "I won't object to a glass of sarsaparilla."

"Sarsaparilla!" repeated the colonel, in amazement. "Wh