? Selling patent
medicine or some Indian cure?" For Roy plainly showed the effect of
his western life, his hair being a little longer than it is worn in the
east, his clothes rather too large for him, and his broad-brimmed hat
quite conspicuous.

"So you think I'm rustling medicine, eh?" he asked the boy.

"I don't know what you're 'rustling' but I know if you try to sell
anything in this joint, you'll get the poke, see!"

Roy began to think the language of the East was almost as effective as
that of the West in expressing ideas.

"I'm not selling medicine, stranger," Roy went on, using the term he
had picked up among the cowboys when they meet one whom they do not
know. "I'm going to put up at this bunk-house, I reckon."

"That's a good one!" exclaimed the boy with a laugh. "What Wild West
show are you from? This is no theatrical boarding house. Better beat
it out of here before the clerk sees you."

But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who,
in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner.

"What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the
bell boy.

"Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent
medicines," replied the boy.

"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the
hotel. Send him out."

"I did, but he won't go."

"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk,
and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been
delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew
near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to
put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of
mine."

"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.

"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be
here himself in a minute."

The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going
to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus
publicly put to shame.

"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.

"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."

"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of
manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the
gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"

The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged
much against his will to take his valise.

"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly t