He had relapsed again into his moody, brooding attitude, elbows on the
table, his handsome head supported by both hands. And it was not like
him to be downcast. After a while he smiled.

"Egad," he said, "it is too melancholy for me here in the open; and I
begin to long for the dusk of trees and for the honest scalp yell to
cheer me up. One knows what to expect in county Tryon-- but not here,
Loskiel-- not here."

"Our business here is like to be ended tomorrow," I remarked.

"Thank God for that," he said heartily, rising and buckling on his war
belt. He added: "As for any recruits we have been ordered to pick up
en passant, I see small chance of that accomplishment hereabout. Will
you summon the landlord, Mr. Loskiel?"

I discovered the man standing at the open door, his warn hands clasped
behind him, and staring stupidly at the cloudless sky. He followed me
back to the taproom, and we reckoned with him. Somehow, I thought he
had not expected to be paid a penny-- yet he did not thank us.

"Are you not Benjamin Hays?" inquired Boyd, carelessly retying his
purse.

The fellow seemed startled to hear his own name pronounced so loudly,
but answered very quietly that he was.

"This house belongs to a great villain, one James Holmes, does it
not?" demanded Boyd.