"h.e.l.l of a country, ain't it!" he observed in a moment. "You a stranger, too?"

"I have been here a short time, sir."

"Thought so. Jest beginnin' to peel, like me. I been here two days. What's your line?"

"I have a number of things in view," I evaded.

"Well, you don't have to tell 'em," he granted. "Thought you was a salesman. I'm from Saint Louie, myself. Sell groceries, and pasteboards on the side. Cards are the stuff. I got the best line of sure-thing stock--strippers, humps, rounds, squares, briefs and marked backs--that ever were dealt west of the Missouri. Judas Priest, but this is a roarer of a burg! What _it_ ain't got I never seen--and I ain't no spring goslin', neither. I've plenty sand in my craw. You ain't been plucked yet?"

"No, sir. I never gamble."

"Wish I didn't, but my name's Jakey and I'm a good feller. Say, I'm supposed to be wise, too, but they trimmed me two hundred dollars. Now I'm gettin' out." He groaned. "Take the train in a few minutes. Dasn't risk myself on the street again. Sent my baggage down for fear I'd lose that.

Say," he added, watching me, "looks like you was goin' out yourself. One of them surveyor fellers, workin' for the railroad?"

"It might be so, sir," I replied.

He half sat up.

"You'll want to throw a leg, I bet. Lemme tell you. It's a h.e.l.l of a town but it's got some fine wimmen; yes, and a few straight banks, too. You're no crabber or piker; I can see that. You go to the North Star. Tell Frank that Jakey sent you. They'll treat you white. You be sure and say Jakey sent you. But for Gawd's sake keep out of the Big Tent."

"The Big Tent?" I uttered. "Why so?"

"They'll sweat you there," he groaned lugubriously. "Say, friend, could you lend me twenty dollars? You've still got your roll. I ain't a stivver.

I'm busted flat."

"I'm sorry that I can't accommodate you, sir," said I. "I have no more money than will see me through--and according to your story perhaps not enough."

"I've told you of the North Star. You mention Jakey sent you. You'll make more than your twenty back, at the North Star," he urged inconsistent.

"If it hadn't been for that d.a.m.ned Big Tent----" and he flopped with a dismal grunt.

By this time, all the while conscious of his devouring eyes, I had changed my clothing and now I stood equipped cap-a-pie, with my hat clapped at an angle, and my pantaloons in my boots, and my red silk handkerchief tastefully knotted at my throat, and my six-shooter slung; and I could scarcely deny that in my own eyes, and in his, I trusted, I was a pretty figure of a Westerner who would win the approval, as seemed to me, of My Lady in Black or of any other lady.

His reflection upon the Big Tent, however, was the fly in my ointment.

Therefore, preening and adjusting with a.s.sumed carelessness I queried, in real concern:

"What about the Big Tent? Where is it? Isn't it respectable?"

"Respectable? Of course it's respectable. You don't ketch your Jakey in no place that ain't. I've a family to think of. You ain't been there? Say!

There's where they all meet, in that Big Tent; all the best people, too, you bet you. But I tell you, friend----"

He did not finish. An uproar sounded above the other street clamor: a pistol shot, and another--a chorus of hoa.r.s.e shouts and shrill frightened cries, the scurrying rush of feet, all in the street; and in the hall of the hotel, and the lobby below, the rush of still more feet, booted, and the din of excited voices.

My man on the bed popped with the agility of a jack-in-the-box for the window.

"A fight, a fight! Shootin' sc.r.a.pe!" In a single motion grabbing coat and hat he was out through the door and pelting down the hall. Overcome by the zest of the moment I pelted after, and with several others plunged as madly upon the porch. We had left the lobby deserted.

The shots had ceased. Now a baying mob ramped through the street, with jangle "Hang him! Hang him! String him up!" Borne on by a hysterical company I saw, first a figure b.l.o.o.d.y-chested and inert flat in the dust, with stooping figures trying to raise him; then, beyond, a man bareheaded, whiskered, but as white as death, hustled to and fro from clutching hands and suddenly forced in firm grips up the street, while the mob trailed after, whooping, cursing, shrieking, flourishing guns and knives and ropes. There were women as well as men in it.

All this turned me sick. From the outskirts of the throng I tramped back to my room and the bath. The hotel was quiet as if emptied; my room was vacant--and more than vacant, for of my clothing not a vestige remained!

My bag also was gone. Worse yet, prompted by an inner voice that stabbed me like an icicle I was awakened to the knowledge that every cent I had possessed was in those vanished garments.

For an instant I stood paralyzed, fronting the calamity. I could not believe. It was as if the floor had swallowed my belongings. I had been absent not more than five minutes. Surely this was the room. Yes, Number Six; and the beds were familiar, their tumbled covers unaltered.

Now I held the bath-room responsible. The scoundrel in the bath had heard, had taken advantage, made a foray and hidden. Out I ran, exploring. Every room door was wide open, every apartment blank; but there was a splashing, from the bath--I listened at the threshold, gently tried the k.n.o.b--and received such a cry of angry protest that it sent me to the right-about, on tiptoe. The thief was not in the bath.

My heart sank as I bolted down for the office. The clerk had reinstated himself behind the counter. He composedly greeted me, with calm voice and with eyes that noted my costume.

"You can have your bath as soon as the porter gets back from the hanging, sir," he said. "That is, unless you'd prefer to hurry up by toting your own water. The party now in will be out directly."

"Never mind the bath," I uttered, breathless, in a voice that I scarcely recognized, so piping and aghast it was. "I've been robbed--of money, clothes, baggage, everything!"

"Well, what at?" he queried, with a glimmer of a smile.

"What at? In my room, I tell you. I had just changed to try on these things; the street fight sounded; I was gone not five minutes and nevertheless the room was sacked. Absolutely sacked."

"That," he commented evenly, "is hard luck."

"Hard luck!" I hotly rejoined. "It's an outrage. But you seem remarkably cool about it, sir. What do you propose to do?"

"I?" He lifted his brows. "Nothing. They're not my valuables."

"But this is a respectable hotel, isn't it?"

"Perfectly; and no orphan asylum. We attend strictly to our business and expect our guests to attend to theirs."

"I was told that it was safe for me to leave my things in my room."

"Not by me, sir. Read that." And he called my attention to a placard that said, among other matters: "We are not responsible for property of any nature left by guests in their rooms."

"Where's the chief of police?" I demanded. "You have officers here, I hope."

"Yes, sir. The marshal is the chief of police, and he's the whole show.

The provost guard from the post helps out when necessary. But you'll find the marshal at the mayor's office or else at the North Star gambling hall, three blocks up the street. I don't think he'll do you any good, though.

He's not likely to bother with small matters, especially when he's dealing faro bank. He has an interest in the North Star. You'll never see your property again. Take my word for it."

"I won't? Why not?"

"You've played the gudgeon for somebody; that's all. Easiest thing in the world for a smart gentleman to slip into your room while you were absent, go through it, and make his getaway by the end of the hall, out over the kitchen roof. It's been done many a time."

"A traveling salesman saw me dressing. He went out before me but he might have doubled," I gasped. "He had one of the beds--who is he?"

"I don't know him, sir."

"A round-bellied, fat-faced man--sold groceries and playing cards."

"There is no such guest in your room, sir. You have bed Number One, bed Number Two is a.s.signed to Mr. Bill Brady, who doubtless will be in soon.

Number Three is temporarily vacant."

"The man said he was about to catch the train east," I pursued desperately. "A round-bellied, fat-faced man in pink striped shirt----"