“Only got one private room, an’ that was took by a feller that vamosed last night without settlin’ up. Reckon ye kin hev that, seein’ as I don’t know whether the feller’s ever comin’ back er not. J. Algernon Smith sorter opined he’d like a room by hisself, too, so I reckon he’d think he had fust claim on the room, on’y he vamosed as myster’ously as Wild Bill.”
“What’s that?” demanded the scout, pulling himself together with a jerk, and peering sharply into the flabby face of Spangler. “Was Wild Bill Hickok staying here?”
“He was.”
“And you say he left last night?”
“Him an’ J. Algernon went away tergether. That was right after supper last night, an’ neither of ’em has come back yet.”
“How long has Wild Bill been here?”
“He come day before yesterday, on hossback, with er Injun. J. Algernon come yesterday arternoon, on the Montegordo stage. Both of ’em’s skedaddled. Who might you be, neighbor?”
“Cody’s my name——”
Spangler tried to express his surprise and delight, but only succeeded in emitting a throaty gurgle; he likewise tried to get up and grab the scout’s hand, but his sudden flop displaced one of the chairs, and he slumped to the ground in a quivering heap.
Nomad got behind him and boosted him up.