Then I went to bed and to a sound sleep; but I set my mind like an alarm
clock, so that the slightest move from the other room would have fetched
me broad awake. City-bred people may not know that this can be done by
most outdoor men. I have listened subconsciously to horsebells for so
many nights, for example, that even on stormy nights the cessation of
that faint twinkle will awaken me, while the crash of the elements or
even the fall of a tree would not in the slightest disturb my tired
slumbers. So now, although the songs and stamping and racket of the
revellers below stairs in McCloud's bar did not for one second prevent
my falling into deep and dreamless sleep, Brower's softest tread would
have reached my consciousness.

However, he slept right through the night, and was still dead to the
world when I slipped out at six o'clock to meet the east-bound train.
The bag--a small black Gladstone--was aboard in charge of the
baggageman. I had no great difficulty in getting it from my friend, the
station agent. Had he not seen me herding the locoed stranger? I
secreted the black bag with the five full bottles of soothing syrup,
slipped the half-emptied bottle in my pocket, and returned to the hotel.
There I ate breakfast, and sat down for a comfortable chat with McCloud
while awaiting results.

Got them very promptly. About eight o'clock Brower came downstairs. He
passed through the office, nodding curtly to McCloud and me, and into
the dining room where he drank several cups of coffee. Thence he passed
down the street toward Sol Levi's. He emerged rather hurriedly and
slanted across to the station.

"In about two minutes," I observed to McCloud, "you're going to observe
yon butterfly turn into a stinging lizard. He's going to head in this