“Buzz wagon, eh?” he said huskily. “I didn’t know one was here.”
“Well there was.”
“Funny I didn’t hear it.”
“I came near feeling it, all right,” grumbled Patsy, displaying his soiled hand. “It came out to the road as if shot from a gun. It nearly ran over me. I fell down while dodging it, as you see, but I reckon I was lucky to get away with that. You don’t know them, eh?”
“Mebbe ’twas the bloke who rang for the booze, Jim,” suggested one of the players, looking up. “Have you forgotten him, Leary?”
“The man who runs the house,” thought Patsy; then, as if the identity of the visitors was of no great consequence, he said agreeably: “I’ll have a mug of ale. See what these gents will have and get in yourself.”
The invitation was readily accepted by all, and Patsy paid willingly, thus paving the way for further inquiries.
“I’m going to Madison,” he said, in reply to a question. “I came from Ashville on the trolley line. How soon can I hit another?”
“Twelve minutes, if she shows up on time,” said Leary, glancing at a nickel watch. “It might have been the man in the side room. I’ll have a look.”
“Twelve minutes, eh?” said Patsy, more quickly drinking his ale when Leary swaggered out from the bar and into the hall. “That’s not long. I don’t want to miss it.”