When the coach came to a halt in front of the hotel, Bulger strode forward to superintend the changing of the horses. While he did so he paid curious regard to his three passengers.
The elderly gentleman in clerical attire and blue goggles appeared to be sleepy or ill, or to be so well accustomed to travelling that the arrival at a new stopping-place had no interest for him. His girl companion was equally indifferent to her surroundings, excepting that she leant forward on the rail of the driver's seat to inspect the new team of horses.
As for the meek and mild young man at the rear, his attention was divided between cleaning his eyes of dust and guarding the heavy box on the seat beside him, as if he feared that it might mysteriously vanish if he were so much as to lift his elbow from its iron-clamped lid.
"Say, misters," Bulger called up. "Thar's time fer you ter git down if you wants suthin' t' eat. Thar's not many sich tip-top hotels along the trail."
It was the girl who answered, without lifting the thick blue gauze veil that hid her face.
"Thank you, driver," she said, "but we had refreshments at the last stopping-place, and we've lots of sandwiches. What's the name of this place?"
"Soldier's Knee, miss," answered Bulger.
"Dear me, what strange, outlandish names they do give to these stations!" the girl remarked. "Why Soldier's Knee instead of elbow, or ankle?"
Bulger shook his head and grinned.
"Dunno, missy," he responded. "Y'see, I warn't present at the christenin'."