quietly and coolly, impervious in waterproof, walked into the hall,
entered the bar-room, took a candle, and, going behind the bar, selected
a bottle, critically examined it, and, returning, poured out a quantity
of whiskey in a glass and gulped it in a single draught.

All this while Jeff was closing the door, and the meek-looking man was
coming into the light again.

Yuba Bill squared his elbows behind him and rested them on the bar,
crossed his legs easily and awaited them. In reply to Jeff's inquiring
but respectful look, he said shortly--

"Oh, you're thar, are ye?"

"Yes, Bill."

"Well, this yer new-fangled road o' yours is ten feet deep in the hollow
with back water from the North Fork! I've taken that yar coach inter
fower feet of it, and then I reckoned I couldn't hev any more. 'I'll
stand on this yer hand,' sez I; I brought the horses up yer and landed
'em in your barn to eat their blessed heads off till the water goes
down. That's wot's the matter, old man, and jist about wot I kalkilated
on from those durned old improvements o' yours."

Coloring a little at this new count in the general indictment against
the uselessness of the "Half-way House," Jeff asked if there were "any
passengers?"

Yuba Bill indicated the meek stranger with a jerk of his thumb. "And his
wife and darter in the coach. They're all right and tight, ez if they