“But,” said Mr. Claflin, “you must call upon us when you get to Philadelphia and have some spare time; our house is on Sassafras Street, not far from Crown, and you will be warmly welcome there at any time.”
Miss Betsy Claflin added her invitation to that of her father.
“Perhaps, after the rough life of the camp, we can make you comfortable if even for only a few hours,” she said. “So please do not fail, if you have the chance, to drop in on us when you are in the city.”
They talked for a long time after supper, and then Mr. Claflin and his daughter took their candles and retired to their rooms.
“I shall see you, of course, in the morning,” said the old gentleman, as they were going. “We will be astir early, for we desire to start as soon as may be on the way to the camp.”
After they had retired, Ben sat for a time chatting with the landlady. Then, thinking to go to bed himself, he arose.
“I shall see to my nag,” said he, “and then get some sleep while I may.”
“As to the horse,” replied the hostess, “you may rest easy about him. The hostler, while he isn’t of much use when hectoring fellows make trouble in the inn, is an excellent hand with the cattle; I never had a better.”
Nevertheless, Ben went to the barn, and there, in the ill light of a lantern suspended from the rafters, he saw the small hostler seated upon a heap of grain sacks, reading an old newspaper. At sight of the lad, the man folded his paper carefully and laid it away. For some little time he sat regarding Ben, as the latter patted his horse and rearranged its bed; then he spoke.
“He was a rare bad fellow, wasn’t he?”