"Bed narrow?" I inquired.

"For two it is. And the pillows are mean. Takes both before you
feel anything's under your head."

He yawned, and I wished him pleasant dreams.

At my news the Virginian left the bar at once; and crossed to the
sleeping room. Steve and I followed softly, and behind us several
more strung out in an expectant line. "What is this going to be?"
they inquired curiously of each other. And upon learning the
great novelty of the event, they clustered with silence intense
outside the door where the Virginian had gone in.

We heard the voice of the drummer, cautioning his bed-fellow.
"Don't trip over the Killer," he was saying. "The Prince of Wales
barked his shin just now." It seemed my English clothes had
earned me this title.

The boots of the Virginian were next heard to drop.

"Can yu' make out what he's at?" whispered Steve.

He was plainly undressing. The rip of swift unbuttoning told us
that the black-headed guy must now be removing his overalls.

"Why, thank yu', no," he was replying to a question of the
drummer. "Outside or in's all one to me."