The stage drew up at the door of the little wooden hotel. The driver tossed his reins to the hostlers who were waiting with fresh horses, threw off the mail pouch, and lowered the express box to the ground where it was receipted for by the agent, who was also the post-master, and the proprietor of the hotel.
Endicott approached that dignitary who, mail pouch in hand, was gazing toward a little knot of men farther down the street: "I want to engage two rooms and a bath," he explained.
The man favoured him with a glance of surprise. "Goin' to stop over?" he queried.
"Yes, my wife and I shall be here over night."
"Married? What d'ye want of two rooms, then? Have 'em if you want 'em. Cost you more—'tain't none of my business. Take them two front ones—head of the stairs. Just give a hand an' we'll git yer trunk up, an' quick as the old woman gits the worsh out you c'n have a tub of water—that'll be four-bits extry, though—an' a dollar if I've got to fill it up twict." As they descended the stairs the man's eyes sought the group down the street: "Must be somethin's comin' off down to the Red Front. The boys ain't missed a mail sence the day they strung up Red Kelley, an' that's seven year ago, come August the fourth——"
"Fifth," corrected the stage driver who stood in the doorway.
"They brung Red in on the fourth, an' some of the boys hadn't got in yet, an' they didn't git in till after dark, so they helt Red over——"
"That was the third——"
"'Twasn't neither! I'd ort to know—it was the day my off leader throw'd his nigh fore shoe——"
Alice was manifesting impatience, and Endicott interrupted with a question: "Is Mr. W. S. Colston here?"