"Did you catch him, sir?" inquired the landlord when Oscar came back and took his stand in front of the window again.
"Of course not!" replied the boy in a tone of disgust. "I knew I couldn't catch him, for he has too many watchful friends about this hotel. He was warned before I reached the stable-yard. By the way, Mr. Dibbits, I am expecting a few gentlemen to dine with me this evening, and I want your pleasantest parlor and the best dinner you can serve up."
"Very well, sir," answered the landlord. "You shall have both."
Oscar turned toward the window again, and just then a horseman galloped up to the porch and dismounted.
Giving his steed into the charge of one of the stable-boys who hurried out to receive him, the man clattered up the steps and threw open the door.
If there is any faith to be put in appearances, he was pretty mad about something. His face was flushed, his shaggy eyebrows were drawn down in a fierce scowl, and even his bushy side-whiskers seemed to bristle with rage.
"Ah, colonel, I am surprised as well as delighted to see you back here," said the landlord, rubbing his hands and bowing obsequiously. "Is there any way in which I can serve you?"
The angry man paid no sort of attention to the greeting.
He came over to Oscar's end of the parlor and stamped up and down the floor, thrashing his boots with his riding-whip.
The boy took one look at him, and turned and gazed out of the window again. He was fairly convulsed with laughter.