“Very good, 'pon my soul!” said the colonel. “I really don't know but I shall adopt your hiding place. I am an old traveler, but not too old to adopt new ideas when I meet with good ones.”
“I think you would find it to your interest, Colonel,” said Parker, looking flattered.
“Well, well,” said the colonel, genially, “suppose we change the subject. There isn't much chance of our being called upon to produce our money, or part with it. Still, as I said a while since, it's best to be cautious, and I see that you all are so. I begin to feel hungry, gentlemen. How is it with you?”
“Are we anywhere near the place for supper?” asked Stiefel. “I wish I could step into a good Broadway restaurant; I feel empty.”
“Only a mile hence, gentlemen, we shall reach Echo Gulch, where we halt for the night. There's a rude cabin there, where they will provide us with supper and shelter.”
This announcement gave general satisfaction. The colonel proved to be right. The stage soon drew up in front of a long one-story building, which bore the pretentious name of the Echo Gulch Hotel.
CHAPTER XXIII. A STARTLING REVELATION.
A stout, black-bearded man stood in front of the hotel to welcome the stage passengers. He took a clay pipe from his lips and nodded a welcome.
“Glad to see you, strangers,” he said. “Here, Peter, you black rascal, help the gentlemen with their baggage.”