“We’re high, too,” Bill put in. “Well over seven thousand feet, ’cordin’ to them railroad engineers.”
“Yes, suh, you are a mile and more nearer Heaven here in Benton than you were when beside the noble Hudson,” supplemented the Colonel. “And the prices of living are reasonable; foh money, suh, is cheap and ready to hand. No drink is less than two bits, and a man won’t tote a match across a street foh less than a drink. Money grows, suh, foh the picking. Our 68 merchants are clearing thirty thousand dollars a month, and the professional gentleman who tries to limit his game is considered a low-down tin-horn. Yes, suh. This is the greatest terminal of the greatest railroad in the known world. It has Omaha, No’th Platte, Cheyenne beat to a frazzle. You cannot fail to prosper.” They had been critically watching me wash and rearrange my clothing. “You are not heeled, suh, I see?”
“Heeled?” I repeated.
“Equipped with a shooting-iron, suh. Or do you intend to remedy that deficiency also?”
“I have not been in the habit of carrying arms.”
“’Most everybody packs a gun or a bowie,” Bill remarked. “Gents and ladies both. But there’s no law ag’in not.”
I had finished my meager toilet, and was glad, for the espionage had been annoying.
“Now I am at your service during a short period, gentlemen,” I announced. “Later I have an engagement, and shall ask to be excused.”
The Colonel arose with alacrity. Bill stood, and seized his hat hanging at the head of the bed.
“A little liquid refreshment is in order fust, I reckon,” quoth the Colonel. “I claim the privilege, of course. And after that—you have sporting blood, suh? You will desire to take a turn or two foh the honor of the Empire State?”