piazza, ranged along the wall, was a low bench, occupied by about forty
tin wash-basins and water-pails, with coarse, dirty crash towels
suspended on rollers above them. By the side of each of these towels
hung a comb and a brush, to which a lock of every body's hair was
clinging, forming in the total a stock sufficient to establish any
barber in the wig business.

It was, as I have said, ten o'clock when we reached the station.
Throwing the bridles of our horses over the hitching-posts at the door,
we at once made our way to the bar-room. That apartment, which was in
the rear of the building, and communicated with by a long, narrow
passage, was filled almost to suffocation, when we entered, by a cloud
of tobacco-smoke, the fumes of bad whisky, and a crowd of drunken
chivalry, through whom the Colonel with great difficulty elbowed his way
to the counter, where 'mine host' and two assistants were dispensing
'liquid death,' at the rate of ten cents a glass, and of ten glasses a
minute.

'Hello, Colonel! how ar' ye?' cried the red-faced liquor-vender, as he
caught sight of my companion, and--relinquishing his lucrative
employment for a moment--took the Colonel's hand.

'Quite well, thank you, Miles,' said the Colonel, with a certain
patronizing air, 'have you seen my man Moye?'

'Moye, no! What's up with him?'

'He's run away with my horse, Firefly--I thought he would have made for
this station. At what time does the next train go up?'