sea of grass.

"Sage Butte doesn't strike one as a very exhilarating place," George
remarked. "We'll stroll round it, and then see about rooms, since we
have to stay the night."

They left the station, but the main street had few attractions to
offer. Three stores, with strangely-assorted, dusty goods in their
windows fronted the rickety plankwalk; beyond these stood a livery
stable, a Chinese laundry, and a few dwelling-houses. Several
dilapidated wagons and buggies were scattered about the uneven road.
In the side street, disorderly rows of agricultural implements
surrounded a store, and here and there little board dwellings with wire
mosquito-doors and net-guarded windows, stood among low trees. Farther
back were four very small wooden churches. It was unpleasantly hot,
though a fresh breeze blew clouds of dust through the place.

"I've seen enough," said Edgar. "The Butte isn't pretty; we'll assume
it's prosperous, though I haven't noticed much sign of activity yet.
Let's go to the hotel."

When they reached it, several untidy loungers sat half asleep in the
shade of the veranda, and though they obstructed the approach to the
entrance none of them moved. Passing behind them, George opened a door
filled in with wire-mesh, and they entered a hot room with a bare
floor, furnished with a row of plain wooden chairs. After they had
rung a bell for several minutes, a man appeared and looked at them with
languid interest from behind a short counter.

"Can you put us up?" George inquired.

"Sure," was the answer.

The man flung down a labeled key, twisted round his register, which was
fitted in a swivel frame, and handed George a pen.

"We want two rooms," Edgar objected.

"Can't help that. We've only got one."

"I suppose we'd better take it. Where can one get a drink?"

"Bar," replied the other, indicating a gap in a neighboring partition.

"They're laconic in this country," Edgar remarked.

"Ever since I arrived in it, I've felt as if I were a mere piece of
baggage, to be hustled along anyway without my wishes counting."

"You'll get used to it after a while," George consoled him.

Entering the dark bar, Edgar refreshed himself with several ice-cooled
drinks, served in what he thought were unusually small glasses. He
felt somewhat astonished when he paid for them.

"Thirst's expensive on the prairie," he commented.

"Pump outside," drawled the attendant. "It's rather mean water."

They w