u wouldn't think there was any
Dutchmen in the country, now would you? but they came to that stink like
flies to molasses. Any time I'd look out the back door I'd see one or
two nosing around that old spoiled beef. Then one day another old
beer-belly sagged in. 'Say, you got any more barrels of dot sauerkraut?'
he wants to know. 'That what?' I asks. 'Dot sauerkraut,' says he, 'like
dot in the backyard. I gif you goot price for a whole barrel,' says he.
And here I'd give away a whole barrel! I might've got a dollar a pound
for the stuff. _I_ don't know what it might be worth to a
Dutchman."

He turned away to wait on us.

"And you wouldn't guess there was so many Dutchmen in the country!" he
repeated.

We paid his terrible prices for our few necessities, and went out. The
music was beginning to tune up from the gambling places and saloons. It
reminded us of our Italian friend.

"Seems to me his place was right here where we are," puzzled Johnny.
"Hanged if I don't believe this is the place; only they've stuck a
veranda roof on it."

We turned into the entrance of the hotel, to find ourselves in the
well-remembered long, low room wherein we had spent the evening a few
months before. It was now furnished with a bar, the flimsy partitions
had been knocked out, and evidently additions had been constructed
beyond the various closed doors. The most conspicuous single thing was a
huge bulletin board occupying one whole end. It was written over closely
with hundreds and hundreds of names. Several men were laboriously
spelling them out. This, we were given to understand, was a sort of
register of the overland immigrants; and by its means many parties
obtained first news of scattered members.

The man behind the bar looked vaguely familiar to me, but I could not
place him.

"Where's the proprietor of this place?" I asked him.

He indicated a short, blowsy, truculent-looking individual who was, at
the moment, staring out the window.

"There used to be an Italian----" I began.

The barkeeper uttered a short barking laugh as he turned to attend to a
customer.

"He found the climate bad for his heart--and sold out!" said he.

On the wall opposite was posted a number of printed and written
handbills. We stopped idly to examine them. They had in general to do
with lost property, stolen horses, and rewards for the apprehension of
various individuals. One struck us in particular. It was issued by a
citizens' committee of