“We shall have to go there, I suppose,” said John in reply. “Are you putting up there, Neal?”
“Yes, while I am in town. I just got over yesterday, and am going right back. I reckon I might as well hang on to your train. It won’t do any harm to have two or three of us along.”
“No signs of Indians?” John spoke up quickly.
“No-o, not around here, but it’s always well to be sociable when you have any distance to go with ladies. When a fellow has only his own skin to take care of he doesn’t have to be so particular.”
“That’s so,” returned John, “and if any of the boys are going our way I’d be glad to have them join us.”
“How soon do you start?”
“As soon as I can get the goods loaded. Those lazy little Mexicans will be as long as they can loading the stuff; you may be sure of that. I’d like to get off to-morrow, if it’s possible.”
“We’ll make it possible,” said Neal. “Us boys will tickle up those Greasers so they’ll step lively.”
They had now reached the long low house which served as an inn, and as Alison looked around upon the homely, dingy furnishings which were none too clean, her heart sank within her. “Will it all look like this?” she asked wistfully.
“Bless you, no,” said Neal. “Why, some of our people have as pretty places as you want to see. To be sure the houses ain’t much on the outside, but inside, there’s a power of fine things. More than one has brought his piano and books and pictures along with him, and though you may find some eating out of wooden trenchers and using horn spoons, others will set you out fine china and silver. It’s about as much of a mix up as you found on the steamboat, you’ll find. Our hotels ain’t to say choice.”