"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here after all. I think—"
Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd about the desk.
"Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you, old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!"
"Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially, extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?"
"Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat him well."
"Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good room—er—ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same time.
Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there.
"What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something unusual had taken place.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let me bunk here or not."
"Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk, somewhat embarrassed.