“Of course, you did,” said the magnificent stranger. “Haven’t I done it before?”
“You have,” admitted Bell. “And so have I. How do you find it at the hotel?”
“Rocky grub. But I ain’t kicking. Say—can you give me any pointers about managing that—affair? It’s my first deal in that line of business, you know.”
“No, I can’t,” answered Bell, after some thought. “I’ve tried all kinds of ways. You’ll have to try some of your own.”
“Tried soft soap?”
“Barrels of it.”
“Tried a saddle girth with a buckle on the end of it?”
“Never none. Started to once; and here’s what I got.”
Bill held out his right hand. Even in the deepening twilight, I could see on the back of it a long, white scar that might have been made by a claw or a knife or some sharp-edged tool.
“Oh, well,” said the florid man, carelessly, “I’ll know what to do later on.”