Before Gus had learned all he wanted to know, the landlord came up to pilot him in to supper. The tables were loaded with frontier delicacies, and although there were no table-cloths or napkins, and the guests sat on long benches, instead of chairs, and used their fingers and formidable-looking bowies, instead of the knives and forks that had been provided for them, everything was as neat as it could be, and Gus made a hearty meal. Soon after they arose from the table, Mose went out to attend to some business for his employer, first telling Gus that he had better go to bed at an early hour, for they would be miles on their way toward the rancho by the time the sun arose the next morning. The boy was only too glad to follow this advice, for he was almost tired out. He made his way to the office and found the landlord there.
“Where did you say my room was?” he inquired.
“Room!” roared the landlord. “The bar-room. Best room in the house, ‘kase it’s the biggest. A good many folk sleep thar, though.”
“Couldn’t you give me a room to myself?” asked Gus. “I can pay for it.”
“Can’t possibly crowd ye into ary bed-room in this rancho to-night,” was the reply. “They’re all full cl’ar up to the ceiling. Every square inch of my tables is occupied, an’ some of the boarders are glad to hang up on the hooks in the office. The bench is the best I kin do for ye, an’ ye’ll find a good bed thar. It’ll make ye that sleepy to look at it that ye’ll want to tumble right into it. Come on an’ I’ll show it to ye!”
Gus followed his host into the bar-room, which was crowded with men and filled so full of tobacco smoke that it was a wonder how the landlord ever found his way through it. But he did. He had no trouble in finding the bed Gus was to occupy that night, and when he showed it to him the boy told himself that it was the worst he had ever seen. It was made of a buffalo robe and two blankets. The robe was spread over the bench and one of the blankets was rolled up into a bundle to serve as a pillow, while the other lay on the foot of the bed and was to be used as a covering. There were a score of beds in the room just like it, and some of them were already occupied by weary frontiersmen, who were snoring lustily in spite of the almost deafening racket made by the wakeful guests who were gathered in front of the bar. Gus glanced about the dingy apartment, thought of his cheerful little room at home and sighed deeply.
“Father certainly knew what he was talking about when he said that if boys would spend as much time in thinking about the comforts and pleasures they have, as they do in worrying over those they don’t have, they would be a great deal more contented than they generally are,” thought Gus, as he placed his hat and boots on the bench, and lay down without taking off any of his clothes. “If I had been asked to sleep on a bed like this at home wouldn’t I have raised a row about it? But now I’ve got to take it or go without; and if I should find any fault with it, that big landlord would throw me out of doors neck and heels. I wonder if Ned and his father live in this way? There are hostile Indians and Mexican cattle-thieves where they are, too.”
Gus slept soundly that night in spite of his unpleasant surroundings, but it seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when he was awakened by a hand laid on his shoulder. He started up and saw Mose standing over him with a lighted lantern in his hand and a heavy rifle on his back. “Time to catch up now,” said the latter.
Gus slowly raised himself to a sitting posture, stretched his aching legs and arms, and looked out at the windows. Not a ray of light came in through them. It was as dark as pitch, and there were Indians and Mexicans somewhere out doors, too. If he could have had his own way he would have gone back to his hard bed rather than venture out of the hotel with only a single companion to protect him.
“Come on,” said Mose. “Everything is ready. I have borrowed a horse for you—a good one, too.”