"Jake's put yore stuff in the stage," announced the landlord, who was also the bartender.
"Then Jake can take my bags out again," said the drummer, disagreeably. "I'm staying over till to-morrow."
"Well, hotel-keepers can't afford to be particular," the landlord said, unsmilingly. "But yuh'll have to unload yore truck yore own self."
The drummer would have enjoyed cursing the landlord. But the latter had the same peculiar look about the eyes that Loudon had. The drummer went out into the street, thinking evil thoughts of these unamiable Westerners.
Kate, when the drummer left the room, smiled sweetly upon Loudon. It was his reward for ridding her of a pest. She did not know that Loudon's prime reason for squelching the drummer was practically the same reason that impels the average man, on receiving an unpleasant surprise, to throw things at the cat.
"How's Johnny Ramsay gettin' along?" inquired Loudon.
"He has completely recovered," Kate replied. "He went back to the Cross-in-a-box four days ago."
"That's good. I'm glad to hear it."
Paying no further attention to Kate, Loudon calmly proceeded to finish his breakfast. Kate began to find the silence painful.
"Why, Tom," said she, "aren't you even a little bit glad to see me?"