In the well-furnished room the guide threw open long French windows and pointed to a cot on the screened-porch outside. "Better sleep on the porch," he volunteered.
"Sleep on the porch?"
"Suit yourself," came the answer as the independent one turned away.
"Look here!" The employe of the house paused. "I want my trunk sent up immediately."
"Sure Mike! Let's have your checks. So-long!"
The stranger stood staring at the door, which the breezy young man, as he disappeared with a cheery whistle, had shut behind him with a vigorous bang.
In the dining room the man from New York found the same easy freedom in the manner of dress, the same lack of conventionalities and the same atmosphere of general good-fellowship; yet he could not say that there was any lack of real courtesy and certainly there was no rude and boisterous talk. It was, to say the least, unsettling to the exceptionally well-bred and well-kept stranger, accustomed to the hotels and restaurants in the East frequented by his class.
Early that evening the Easterner sallied forth, clearly bent on sight-seeing. He had dressed for the occasion. The gray traveling suit had been put aside for a tailor-made outfit of corduroy. The coat—worn without a vest over a fine negligee shirt of silk—was Norfolk; the trousers were riding trousers and above the tan shoes were pig-skin puttees. All this, with the light, soft hat, neat tie and the undeniably fine figure and handsome face, would have made him attractive on any stage. The tourists turned to look after him with expressions of admiring envy; the natives—white, red, black, yellow and brown—accepted him with no more than a passing glance as a part of the strange new life that the railroad was constantly bringing to Rubio City.
Calmly conscious of himself and openly interested, in a mildly condescending way, the young man strolled down one side of the main street to the end of the business section, then back on the other. Twice he made the round, then, seeking scenes of further interest, pushed open the swinging doors of Rubio City's most popular place of amusement—the Gold Bar saloon.
At a table in one corner two men—one tall, darkfaced, coatless, with unbuttoned vest, leather wrist-guards, and a heavy gun loosely buckled about his slim waist; the other thick-set, heavy, red-faced—were holding animated conversation over their glasses. That is to say: the thick, red-faced man was animated. Glaring at his companion he banged his huge, hairy fist on the table until the glasses jumped.