down the street." I set forth at a brisk pace, but the loneliness
and strangeness of the place were rather depressing.

Before I had gone many steps, however, the sound of running water halted
me, and just in the nick of time, for I was walking straight into a
ditch. By peering hard into the darkness and feeling my way I found
a bridge. Then it did not take long to reach the light. But it was a
saloon, and not the hotel. One peep into it served to make me face about
in double-quick time, and hurry in the opposite direction.

Hearing a soft footfall, I glanced over my shoulder, to see the Mexican
that I had noticed at the station. He was coming from across the street.
I wondered if he were watching me. He might be. My heart began to beat
violently. Turning once again, I discovered that the fellow could not be
seen in the pitchy blackness. Then I broke into a run.

III. THE TRAIL

A short dash brought me to the end of the block; the side street was not
so dark, and after I had crossed this open space I glanced backward.

Soon I sped into a wan circle of light, and, reaching a door upon which
was a hotel sign, I burst in. Chairs were scattered about a bare office;
a man stirred on a couch, and then sat up, blinking.

"I'm afraid--I believe some one's chasing me," I said.

He sat there eying me, and then drawled, sleepily:

"Thet ain't no call to wake a feller, is it?"

The man settled himself comfortably again, and closed his eyes.

"Say, isn't this a hotel? I want a room!" I cried.

"Up-stairs; first door." And with that the porter went to sleep in good
earnest.

I made for the stairs, and, after a backward look into the street, I ran
up. A smelly lamp shed a yellowish glare along a hall. I pushed open
the first door, and, entering the room, bolted myself in. Then all the
strength went out of my legs. When I sat down on the bed I was in a cold
sweat and shaking like a leaf. Soon the weakness passed, and I moved
about the room, trying to find a lamp or candle. Evidently the hotel,
and, for that matter, the town of Holston, did not concern itself
with such trifles as lights. On the instant I got a bad impression of
Holston. I had to undress in the dark. When I pulled the window open a
little at the top the upper sash slid all the way down. I managed to
get it back, and tried raising the lower sash. It was very loose, but it
stayed up. Then I crawled into bed.

Though I was tired and sleepy, my mind whirl