."

"Huh?" Tim snorted, suspiciously. "I think ye're the one that's kiddin',
Cap."

"Not a bit. I looked. The last room on this side is the Dutchman's, and
these are ours. Take your pick. They're all alike."

Knowlton stepped to the nearest and looked in. For a moment he said no
word. Then he softly muttered:

"Well, I'll be spread-eagled!"

"Me, too," seconded Tim, who had been craning his neck.

The room was absolutely empty. No bed, no chair, no bureau, no
rug--nothing at all was in it except two iron hooks. Its floor consisted
of split palm logs, round side up, between which opened inch-wide
spaces. Its walls were rusty corrugated iron, guiltless of mirrors or
pictures, which did not reach to the roof.

"Observe the excellent ventilation," grinned McKay. "Wind blows up
through the floor--if there is any wind--and then loops over the
partition into the next fellow's room."

"Yeah. And I'll say any guy that drops his collar button is out o' luck.
It goes plunk into the mud, seven foot down under the house. But say,
Cap, how the heck do we sleep? Hang ourselves up on them hooks?"

"Exactly."

"Kind o' rough on a feller's shirt, ain't it? And the shirt would likely
pull off over yer head before mornin'."

"Yes, probably would. But the secret is this--you're supposed to hang
your hammock on those hooks. You provide the hammock. The hotel provides
the hooks. What more can you ask of a modern hotel?"

"Huh! And if a guy wants a bath, there's the river, all full o' 'gators
and cattawampuses and things. And if ye eat, I s'pose ye rustle yer own
grub and pay for eatin' it off that slab table there. There's jest one
thing ye can say for this dump--a feller can spit on the floor. But with
all them cracks in it he might not hit it, at that. Mother of mine! To
think Missus Ryan's li'l' boy should ever git caught stayin' in a hole
like this, along o' drunks and skiddin' she-goats and--did ye say a
Dutchman?"

"German. Chap named Schwandorf."

"Yeah?" Tim's tone was sinister. "Say, Cap, gimme the room next that
guy. And if ye hear anybody yowlin' before mornin' don't git worried. It
won't be me."

"None of that, Tim," warned Knowlton. "The war's over--"

"Since when? There wasn't no peace treaty signed when we left the
States."

"Er--ahum! Well, technically you're right. But this fellow may be useful
to us. He knows the upper river, they say."

"Aw, well, if ye can use him I'll lay off him. Where is he?"