"We're directly over the bar-room, aren't we?" inquired John as another noisy outburst came from below.
"Yes, but you won't mind that after a bit," explained the landlady. "You'll get used to it same as I have. I go to sleep and don't pay no more attention to the noises than I do to the wind that blows."
By this time she had opened the doors, which were unlocked, and entered the rooms.
The boys looked ruefully at one another when they became aware in the dim light of the condition of the rooms to which they had been shown.
"I don't believe those windows have seen soap and water since the Erie Canal was built," whispered George to Grant. "When did you say that was?"
"Keep quiet a minute, Pop," retorted Grant.
The rain was beating against the windows with renewed force. The storm apparently was at its height. For them to go on in the Black Growler was almost impossible. There was nothing to be done, except to make the best of the conditions in which they now found themselves.
Soon after the withdrawal of their landlady, who had been paid in advance for the use of the rooms, although breakfast was not included as the boys explained they might have to leave the village before sunrise, they prepared for bed. They were thoroughly tired by the new experiences of the past day and in spite of their surroundings and the noise of the men below and of the storm, which still was raging, they decided to retire.
Their rooms did not connect and as George and Grant withdrew, Fred said, "If we need your help in the night, fellows, don't fail to come right away."
"Are you scared, Peewee?" laughed George.