"Come on, Dad, let's walk up there," said Jack.
"But your suitcases are pretty heavy," answered his father, with a smile.
"Oh, we won't mind those," declared Fred. "We've hiked around with just as much to carry many times."
"I sha'n't mind it myself," declared his uncle. "Campaigning in France was a splendid thing to harden one's muscles."
They set off down the one business street of which Columbina boasted. They had to pick their way carefully along the dilapidated boardwalk. At one point they came opposite O'Brian's Hotel. Downstairs was a saloon, and in this a noisy bunch were talking and singing.
"I don't know as I would care to stop there," remarked Randy. "It looks like rather a tough hole to me."
"You are right," responded Jack. "I'd rather go to some private house, if I could find one, or else buy a tent and hire a place where we could pitch it."
"Gee, that's an idea!" cried Andy. "I'd much rather go camping out and do my own cooking than put up with just any old thing."
At length they came to Smedley's Hotel. It was a new building, three stories in height, with a restaurant occupying one-half of the lower floor. Half a dozen men were occupying chairs on the front piazza, and they eyed the newcomers curiously.
"Looks fairly clean, anyway," whispered Fred to his cousins. "I wouldn't want to get into some old ranch that was full of bugs."