On rumbled the wagon. Its brake screamed against the wheel as the horses plunged down the steep inclines which marked the descent from one "shelf" to another. Presently a vile odor greeted Ross’s nostrils, and at the same time the wagon struck the bridge over the sulphurated waters of the Shoshone, and began the climb on the other side.
Ross was keenly alive to this strange new world in which the convenience of the East met the newness and crudeness of the West. Brilliant electric lights illuminated dust-deep, unpaved, unsprinkled streets. Tents stood beside pretentious homes, and stone business blocks were rising beside offices located in canvas wagons with rounded tops. And to and fro past the wagon flashed horsemen, cowboys dressed like Sandy except that their corduroy trousers were incased in leather "chaps."
Sandy, watching Ross out of the corner of his eye, grinned at the boy’s expression.
"Buck up here, tenderfoot," he advised good-naturedly. "This here is ’The Irma’; and, if you’ve got any better hotels in the East, why, don’t tell Colonel Cody of it, at any rate, for ’The Irma’ is the Colonel’s pet."
Then Ross found himself in the foyer of "The Irma," the hotel that "Buffalo Bill" erected to honor his home town, which bears his name, a comfortable, modernly equipped house decorated with hundreds of paintings, water colors, and etchings, all picturing the scenes in Colonel Cody’s life as represented in his "Wild West Show."
Sandy had registered in advance of Ross, and stepped to a swinging door at the end of the counter. There he stopped and turned back. "Come on and have a drink, tenderfoot," he invited good-naturedly.
Ross was writing his name, and did not look up. "No, thank you," he returned quietly. "I don’t drink."
Several men lounging about glanced curiously at the boy. Sandy thrust his hands into his pockets, and, leaning against the counter, looked at him in open interest.
After Ross had registered, he drew a nickel from his pocket and laid it on the counter. "A two-cent stamp, please."
The clerk, impatient with the deliberation of his movements, cast the nickel hurriedly into the cash drawer and handed out a stamp. Ross waited for the change, while three men behind him pressed forward to the register.