The landlord looked at him sharply.
“Oh, you’re the feller that went off on a drunk, ain’t you? I remember you now. Well, they didn’t leave no grips here.”
“And no word either that I know of,” added the woman.
She swept Dr. Slavens with wondering eyes, for she had held a pretty good opinion of him before his sudden, and evidently heavy, fall.
“But where in this world have you been, man?” she asked.
“Nowhere in this world,” he answered. “I’ve been taking a little side-trip to hell!”
“You cert’nly look like it, mister!” the woman shuddered, closing the wide V at her bosom, the flaring 145 garment clutched in her great ring-encumbered hand.
“Will you tell me, then, about my friends?” he asked.
“Gone; that’s all we know,” said she.
“Part went on the train, two or three days ago; some went on the stage; and the rest left in a wagon this morning,” said the landlord.