In this public sleeping room they had done what one does to
secure a seat in a railroad train. Upon each bed, as notice of
occupancy, lay some article of travel or of dress. As we stood
there, the two Jews came in and opened and arranged their
valises, and folded and refolded their linen dusters. Then a
railroad employee entered and began to go to bed at this hour,
before dusk had wholly darkened into night. For him, going to bed
meant removing his boots and placing his overalls and waistcoat
beneath his pillow. He had no coat. His work began at three in
the morning; and even as we still talked he began to snore.

"The man that keeps the store is a friend of mine," said the
Virginian; "and you can be pretty near comfortable on his
counter. Got any Blankets?"

I had no blankets.

"Looking for a bed?" inquired the American drummer, now arriving.

"Yes, he's looking for a bed," answered the voice of Steve behind
him.

"Seems a waste of time," observed the Virginian. He looked
thoughtfully from one bed to another. "I didn't know I'd have to
lay over here. Well, I have sat up before."

"This one's mine," said the drummer, sitting down on it. "Half's
plenty enough room for me."

"You're cert'nly mighty kind," said the cowpuncher. "But I'd not