"Oh, Baptist, of course. As I said, they are at the head of everything, including," and he smiled humorously, "a great many wives of other men." They both laughed, and Legs, who was almost forgotten, joined in.
By this time, they were wandering aimlessly down a street that finally came to an end, and ran abruptly into a brick wall. Changing their course into another street, they continued their indefinite pilgrimage. Presently, they paused before one or two neat looking houses, and inquired regarding rooms. Both were full. A convention of preachers was still in session, which explained the state of circumstances. So, on again they went, until they paused at a corner. A middle-aged woman sat on the front porch of a house that rose to two stories, and was decorated with two vine-laden porches. The house appeared to contain possibly seven or eight rooms.
"Hello, Mis'!" exclaimed Legs, in greeting so familiar that Wyeth felt he surely must know her.
"How-do," she answered as familiarly and smiling.
"Three tramps we are from Attalia, and without a place to roost. Do you happen to have a spare pole or two?"
"Sho has. Come upon the po'ch and be seated," she invited.
"A-hem. That's when you said something," smiled Legs, "eh, Mis'?" She joined in the humor.
"Well, boys," said Legs, when they were comfortably seated, "this looks good to me. Supposing we just hang up here, and send for our stuff?"
It was agreeable to the other two, and they were, therefore, duly installed, three in a room. Legs, being the longest, was given a bed to himself, while Hatfield and Wyeth agreed to share another together. It was fortunate for both that it was arranged thus, since Legs proved to be a dreadful night man, and, from his apparently restless way of tossing, required a halter.
"Any saloons around here, Mis'?" he inquired shortly, when she reappeared on the porch a few minutes later.