I reached it myself about two hours later, an' went to the hotel. Hank was settin' by the stove when I came into the bar-room. The' was eight or ten other fellers still restin' from last summer's work, but I didn't see the old landlord. "Where's Peabody?" sez I.
"He's dead," sez a tall, snarley lookin' feller; "what do ya want with him?"
"I don't want nothin' with him—if he's dead," sez I. "Who's runnin' this place now?"
"I am," sez the snarley one. I didn't take to him at all.
"Would you be so kind enough as to tell me where my saddle an' bridle is?" sez I in my softest voice. "What the 'ell do I know about your saddle an' bridle?" sez he.
"I left 'em here with Peabody," sez I.
"How would I know it was yours?" sez he, sneerin'.
"I'd recognize it," sez I. "It had H. H. burned into it."
"What does H. H. stand for?" sez he.
"It stands for Henry Higinson—sometimes," sez I. Then I turned to the bar mop an' said, "Where's that saddle an' bridle?"