“I wonder what's got into me?” he thought; “I thought I should sleep till morning.”
He tried to compose himself to sleep, but the more effort he made the broader awake he became. Sometimes it seems as if such unaccountable deviations from our ordinary habits were Heaven-sent. As Herbert lay awake he suddenly became aware of a conversation which was being carried on, in low tones, in the next room. The first voice he heard, he recognized as that of the colonel.
“Yes,” he said, “some of the passengers have got money. There's that Stiefel probably carries a big sum in gold and notes. When I was speaking of the chance of the stage being robbed, he was uncommon nervous.”
“Who's Stiefel?” was growled in another voice, which Herbert had no difficulty in recognizing as the landlord's.
“Oh, he's the fat, red-faced German. From his talk, I reckon he's come out to buy mines somewhere in Colorado.”
“We'll save him the trouble.”
“So we will—good joke, John. Oh, about this Stiefel, he carries his money in a belt round his waist. I infer that it is gold.”
“Good! What about the others?”
“There's a tall, thin man—his name is Parker,” proceeded the colonel; “he's smart, or thinks he is; you'll have to pull his stockings off to get his money. Ha, ha!”
“How did you find out, colonel?” asked the landlord, in admiration.