“Come on, boys,” he growled in his deep bass voice; “don’t you intend to let a lady go to bed?”
One by one the men filed through the door which Nick held open for them; but when all but himself had left, the devoted little barkeeper turned to the Girl with a look full of meaning, and whispered:
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Me? Oh, no, Nick!” And with a “Good-night, all! Good-night, Sonora, an’ thank you! Good-night, Nick!” the Girl closed the door upon them. The last that she heard from them was the muffled ejaculation:
“Oh, Lordy, we’ll never git down to Cloudy to-night!”
Now the Girl slid the bolts and stood with her back against the door as if to take extra precautions to bar out any intrusion, and with eyes that blazed she yelled out:
“Come out o’ that, now! Step out there, Mr. Johnson!”
Slowly the road agent parted the curtains and came forward in an attitude of dejection.
“You came here to rob me,” at once began the Girl, but her anger made it impossible for her to continue.
“I didn’t,” denied the road agent, quietly, his countenance reflecting how deeply hurt he was by her words.