Varney had always carried a rifle and had been unable to
avail himself of it in time; Hap Smith in assuming the responsibilities
of the United States Mail had forthwith invested heavily of his cash on
hand for a Colt forty-five and wore it frankly in the open. His, by the
way, was the only gun in sight, although there were perhaps a half dozen
in the room.

"She ain't exactly gone to bed," giggled the garrulous old man Adams,
"bein' as there ain't no bed for her to go to. Ma Drury is inhabitin'
one right now, while the other two is pre-empted by Lew Yates' wife an'
his mother-in-law."

"Pshaw," muttered Hap Smith. "That ain't right. She's an awful nice girl
an' she's clean tuckered out an' cold an' wet. She'd ought to have a bed
to creep into." His eyes reproachfully trailed off to Poke Drury. The
one-legged man made a grimace and shrugged.

"I can't drag Lew's folks out, can I?" he demanded. "An' I'd like to see
the jasper as would try pryin' Ma loose from the covers right now. It
can't be did, Hap."

Hap sighed, seeming to agree, and sighing reached out a big hairy hand
for the bottle.

"She's an awful nice girl, jus' the same," he repeated with head-nodding
emphasis. And then, feeling no doubt that he had done his chivalrous
duty, he tossed off his liquor, stretched his thick arms high over his
head, squared his shoulders comfortably in his blue flannel shirt and
grinned in wide good humour. "This here campoody of yours ain't a
terrible bad place to be right bow, Poke, old scout. Not a bad place
a-tall."

"You said twice, she was nice," put in old man Adams, his bleary, red
rimmed ferret eyes gimleting at the stage driver. "But you ain't said
who she was? Now..."

Hap Smith stared at him and chuckled.

"Ain't that jus' like Adams for you?" he wanted to know. "Who is she, he
says! An' here I been ridin' alongside her all day an' never once does
it pop into my head to ask whether she minds the name of Daisy or Sweet
Marie!"

"Name's Winifred Waverly," chirped up the old man. "But a name don't
mean much; not in this end of the world least ways. But us boys finds it
kind of interestin' how she hangs out to Dead Man's Alley. That bein'
kind of strange an' ..."

"Poh!" snorted Hap Smith disdainfully. "Her hang out in that little town
of Hill's Corners? Seein' as she ain't ever been there, havin' tol' me
so on the stage less'n two hours ago, what's the sense of sayin' a fool
thing like that? She ain't the kin