Then he stepped to the saloon, and after a sharp, decided knock by way of announcement, entered.
"Does the girl lying outside belong to anyone here? She is nearly frozen."
A couple of men stepped to the door and peered out.
"It's Dam Crow's girl. She was in here a huntin' him."
"Where is her father?"
"That's him," pointing to a man lying on a bench behind the stove.
"Guess he's asleep," said the man, smiling broadly.
"Wake him, and hurry about it," said the gentleman.
But Damon Crowley was not in a sleep that could be easily broken. Like a beast he lay. The spittle oozed from his mouth and spread over his dirty beard in true drunkard fashion. When told that his daughter was just outside freezing, he could only grunt.