"Is this a hotel?" she queried, brusquely.

The shirt-sleeved individual leisurely turned and replied, "Yes, ma'am."

And Carley said: "No one would recognize it by the courtesy shown. I have
been standing here waiting to register."

With the same leisurely case and a cool, laconic stare the clerk turned the
book toward her. "Reckon people round here ask for what they want."

Carley made no further comment. She assuredly recognized that what she had
been accustomed to could not be expected out here. What she most wished to
do at the moment was to get close to the big open grate where a cheery red-
and-gold fire cracked. It was necessary, however, to follow the clerk. He
assigned her to a small drab room which contained a bed, a bureau, and a
stationary washstand with one spigot. There was also a chair. While Carley
removed her coat and hat the clerk went downstairs for the rest of her
luggage. Upon his return Carley learned that a stage left the hotel for Oak
Creek Canyon at nine o'clock next morning. And this cheered her so much
that she faced the strange sense of loneliness and discomfort with
something of fortitude. There was no heat in the room, and no hot water.
When Carley squeezed the spigot handle there burst forth a torrent of water
that spouted up out of the washbasin to deluge her. It was colder than any
ice water she had ever felt. It was piercingly cold. Hard upon the surprise
and shock Carley suffered a flash of temper. But then the humor of it
struck her and she had to laugh.

"Serves you right--you spoiled doll of luxury!" she mocked. "This is out
West. Shiver and wait on yourself!"