“What! you think that such a great feat, do you?” said the landlord, who, deeming the madman well secured, felt no compunction in disowning Johnny’s service. “Do you suppose any other couldn’t have said, ‘Give me your club,’ just as well as you?”
“Perhaps you would like to try,” replied our hero; and he went to unbar the shed-door.
“For heaven’s sake, no!” screamed the cowardly landlord, preparing to run away. “Don’t let him loose on any account; I’ll do any thing for you sooner than that!”
“Well, you know what I want; it’s not much, and reasonable enough,” replied Fearless Johnny, relaxing his hold of the door.
“But that’s just the one thing I can’t do,” lamented the host. “My beds are bespoken to customers who come every year to the fair, and if I disappoint any of them I’m a ruined man.”
“Very well then, here goes!” and Zovanin once more prepared to open the shed-door.
“Oh, no; stop!” roared the landlord. “Perhaps there is a way, after all.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Johnny; “I thought as much.”
“There is a room, in fact a whole suite of rooms, and a magnificent suite of rooms, I daren’t give to any one else, but I think they will do for you, as you are such a stout-hearted chap.”
“Where are they?” said Johnny.