The speech was over, and in a second the line melted away and every man was seeking quarters or pitching into the benzine shops.
Wild Bill would have been the first to go there, had not his companion, Willie Pond, said, in a low tone:
"Bill, please get quarters for you and me before you do anything else. You know what you have promised. Remember, if it had not been for me, neither you nor one of this party would ever have got here."
"You're right. But I'm so cussed dry!" muttered Bill. "You're right, I'll find housing for us two before a drop passes my lips."
And Bill rode on to the upper part of the town, as it might be called, where some men were putting up a new shanty, in fact, just putting the finishing touch on it by hanging a door.
"Will you sell that shebang?" asked Bill, of the man who seemed to be the head workman.
"Yes, if we get enough. We can build another. What will you give?"
"These two horses, and a century," said Bill, pointing to the animals ridden by himself and companion, and holding up a hundred-dollar bill which Pond had furnished him.
"O. K. The house is yours!" said the man. "Boys, put for timber, and we'll have another up by sunset."
Bill and his companion dismounted, removed their blankets, arms, and saddle-bags into the house, gave up the horses and were at home. It did not take long to settle there.