“I will see if this Casco and Mike are inside. If they are, I will let you know, and you can summon assistance, and we can have them arrested.”
“Good enough.”
Anderson took a seat on a stepping stone near the curb. Pulling his hat far down over his eyes, and turning up his collar in true “tough” style, Bob made his way toward the Rivermen’s Rest.
Nothing could be seen from the outside but the lights, as the screens were tightly drawn over windows and doors.
Bob hesitated only a moment, then he opened one of the doors and entered.
A cloud of thick and rank tobacco smoke greeted him, mingled with the smell of stale liquors.
“Phew! enough to make a decent man sick!” was the youth’s mental comment. “How anybody can love to come to such a place is past my comprehension.”
The place was a long and narrow one. In the rear was a sort of restaurant, and, seeing a vacant table, Bob walked over to it, and dropped into a seat.
“A sandwich and a cup of coffee,” he said to the dirty waiter who came to take his order.
While the waiter was filling the order Bob gazed around him, and his keen eyes took in every detail of the place.