"Did you say you owned a hotel in Custer City, Mr. Scott?" asked Paul, when they were near the end of the journey.
"Jim Scott owns such a hotel," answered Mr. Scott, significantly.
"Beg pardon, I mean Jim. If the price isn't high, I will stop there."
"The price is high and the accommodations very or'nary," said Scott, frankly, "but the price to you won't be anything. You'll be there as my company."
"Oh, but Jim, you won't make any money if you act so generously; but I thank you all the same."
"I don't want to make any money out of you, youngster."
"I haven't done anything to deserve such kindness, Jim."
"Then we'll say you haven't. Look here, youngster, old Jim's been prospered, and he's got no one to spend his money on. It won't hurt him to give you free board, and he's goin' to do it."
Paul grasped the rough hand of his new friend, and frankly accepted the offer, which acceptance Jim appeared to regard as a personal favor.
He was installed in a tolerably comfortable room in the Black Hills Hotel—as comfortable, at any rate, as the hotel, which was a rough-looking structure, afforded, and soon made himself at home.