do better than to stop at
this hotel. Clean beds, good food, quiet, and reasonable as to rates.

Pete was about to say something when Brevoort touched him gently with
his knee.

"We was lookin' for a place like that," said Brevoort, suddenly
loquacious. "We sure aim to see this town. We just been paid off--we
was workin' for the Bar-Cross--and we figured on seein' a little high
life a-fore we went to punchin' again. Is that hotel you was speakin'
about open all night?"

The conductor chuckled. "Ain't been closed a minute for six years that
I know. Mostly railroad men. And say, if you figure on being in town
more than a couple of days, you can save money by taking your room by
the week."

"Thanks," said Brevoort. "We aim to stay a week, anyhow."

"Well, they'll use you all right," asserted the conductor. "And if
you're looking for a place to buy anything--clothes or collars or
shirts--why, right across from the hotel there's as fine a little
clothing-store as you can find in town. The man that runs is a friend
of mine, and he'll use you white. Just tell him I sent you. Stokes is
his name--Len Stokes."

"Thanks, neighbor," said Brevoort, and Pete thought that Brevoort's
tone was the least bit sarcastic.

"That's all right," said the genial conductor. "I always like to see
the boys have a good time."

Pete himself was a trifle suspicious of the conductor's solicitude as
to their welfare, naturally unaware that that worthy official got a
rake-off on all customers mentioning his name at the hotel and
clothing-store.

He gathered up his reports and tickets, snapped a rubber band round
them, and dropped them in his capacious pocket. "We're eight minutes
late," he remarked, glancing at his watch. "Now what--" He rose and
made for the end door as the train slowed up and stopped at an isolated
siding. Pete glanced out and saw a little red box of a building, four
or five empty freight cars, and a curve of rail that swung off south
from the main line. No passengers got on or off the train, but Pete
noticed that the conductor was talking earnestly with a hollow-cheeked,
blue-overalled man who had just handed him a slip of paper.

The conductor waved his arm. The train pulled out. A little later he
came and took his seat opposite Pete. Conductor Stokes seemed even
more genial than ever, elaborating on the opportunities for "a good
time" in El Paso, and reiterating the hope that they would make
thems