It was not a difficult thing to find a hotel. Inquiry enabled them to reach the Hall House, which was the nearest public house after leaving the station. It was not a particularly inviting house on the outside, being sadly in need of paint. It was a frame building, standing on a corner, and a number of loafers were sitting about in front, smoking, chewing tobacco, and gossiping. They stared curiously at the boys.
Frank led the way into the office.
Two men, one in his shirt sleeves and the other looking like a countryman, were talking politics. They stopped and turned to look the strangers over.
“Where is the proprietor?” inquired Frank, as he stepped briskly up to the desk.
The man in his shirt sleeves drawled:
“What yer want o’ him?”
“We want to put up here.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Can’t?”
“Nope.”