They found Knockout Inn a typical settlement building, a long low, one-story structure with more sheds and outhouses than there was building itself.
The proprietor came out to meet them in person as Sandy drew his horse to a standstill before the door. The motion picture company straggled up, feeling, and perhaps looking, like a band of gypsies on the trail.
There was a smile on the habitually doleful countenance of Slick Jones and his hair, black and sleek, brushed straight back from a rather low and bulging forehead, shone with unusual brilliance. Slick was famous among his neighbors for this style of hair dressing, for no matter how careless the rest of his attire might be, Slick’s hair was always sleek and polished like a piece of patent leather.
“Glad to meet you!” he said now, with a manner that was evidently intended to match his hair. “My place ain’t much on looks, but I’m aimin’ to make it comfortable. Sandy, there! Step lively, my lad. This way, ladies and gents! This way!”
CHAPTER XV
A BOTTOMLESS PIT
Once within the big bare room assigned to her and Ruth, Helen gave vent to joyful giggles.
“Ruth, this is too rich,” Helen gurgled. “It’s better than any circus I was ever at. Within half an hour of landing we meet both a desperado and a confidence man.”
“Only Sandy Banks isn’t a desperado,” said Ruth, reaching eagerly for a pitcher of cold water. “And unless I’m very much mistaken, our friend Slick Jones is far from being a confidence man.”
“Ruth, how can you be so trusting!” Helen removed her hat and coat and rather gingerly hung them on a row of rusty hooks along the wall that seemed to be all the closet the room contained. “Didn’t you hear Sandy say that Slick gambled? And then, look at his name, Slick Jones!”
“From his hair,” said Ruth, sputtering as she dashed cold water all over her face and neck. “My, this feels good! Better try some, Helen.”