"What's that, Pete?" he asked of Timmons, who was hovering as closely as he dared. "Pretty late, isn't it?"
"Guests, I reckon; the Overland was three hours late; sure, they're stoppin' yere."
CHAPTER XXXIV: MISS DONOVAN DECIDES
Two men came in through the door together, each with a small grip in his hand, which Timmons took from them, and deposited beside the stove. The larger wrote both names in the register, and then straightened up, and surveyed the landlord.
"Any chance to eat?" he asked. "We're both of us about starved."
Timmons scratched his head.
"I reckon there's plenty o' cold provender out thar," he said doubtfully, "an' maybe I could hustle you up some hot coffee, but we don't aim ter do no feedin' at this time o' night. What's the matter with the diner?"
"Hot box, and had to cut her off; be a good fellow, and hustle us up something."
"I'll see what there is," and Timmons started for the kitchen, "but I wouldn't wake Ma Timmons up fer a thousand dollars. She'd never git over it."
The large man, a rather heavy-footed fellow, with scraggly grey moustache, turned to his companion.