Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Weird Warning; Or, Dauntless Dell's Rival онлайн

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“‘Lucky Strike Hotel,’” said the scout, reading from the sign. “Are you the proprietor?” he went on, dropping his eyes to the huge bulk of humanity in the two chairs.

“I run this joint,” wheezed Spangler, “but I ain’t high-toned enough ter call myself a proprietor.”

“Can we stop here?”

“Can if ye got the price.”

“We want a room by ourselves.”

“Only got one private room, an’ that was took by a feller that vamosed last night without settlin’ up. Reckon ye kin hev that, seein’ as I don’t know whether the feller’s ever comin’ back er not. J. Algernon Smith sorter opined he’d like a room by hisself, too, so I reckon he’d think he had fust claim on the room, on’y he vamosed as myster’ously as Wild Bill.”

“What’s that?” demanded the scout, pulling himself together with a jerk, and peering sharply into the flabby face of Spangler. “Was Wild Bill Hickok staying here?”

“He was.”

“And you say he left last night?”

“Him an’ J. Algernon went away tergether. That was right after supper last night, an’ neither of ’em has come back yet.”