Chapter XXXIV. Two Old Acquaintances Reappear

In the rude hotel kept by the outlaw, whom we have introduced under the name of Brown, there sat two men, to neither of whom will my readers need an introduction. They have already appeared in our story.

One was Brown himself, the other Col. Warner, or, as we may as well confess, Jerry Lane, known throughout the West as an unscrupulous robber and chief of a band of road agents, whose depredations had been characterized by audacity and success.

Brown was ostensibly an innkeeper, but this business, honest enough in itself, only veiled the man's real trade, in which he defied alike the laws of honesty and of his country. The other was by turns a gentleman of property, a merchant, a cattle owner, or a speculator, in all of which characters he acted excellently, and succeeded in making the acquaintance of men whom he designed to rob.

The two men wore a sober look. In their business, as in those more legitimate, there are good times and dull times, and of late they had not succeeded.

"I want some money, captain," said Brown, sullenly, laying down a black pipe, which he had been smoking.

"So do I, Brown," answered Warner, as we will continue to call him. "It's a dry time with me."

"You don't understand me, captain," continued Brown. "I want you to give me some money."

"First you must tell me where I am to get it," answered Warner, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Do you mean to say you have no money?" asked Brown, frowning.

"How should I have?"

"Because in all our enterprises you have taken the lion's share, though you haven't always done the chief part. You can't have spent the whole."

"No, not quite; but I have nothing to spare. I need to travel about, and--"

"You've got a soft thing," grumbled Brown. "You go round and have a good time while I am tied down to this fourth-rate tavern in the woods."

"Well, it isn't much more than that," said Warner, musingly.

"Do you expect me to keep a first-class hotel?" demanded Brown, defiantly.

"No, of course not. Brown," continued Warner, soothingly, "don't let us quarrel; we can't afford it. Let us talk together reasonably."

"What have you to say?"

"This, that it isn't my fault if things have gone wrong. Was it my fault that we found so little cash in that last store we broke open?"

"Nineteen dollars!" muttered Brown, contemptuously.

"Nineteen dollars, as you say. It didn't pay us for our trouble. Well, I was as sorry as you. I fail to see how it was my fault. Better luck next time."

"When is the next time to be?" asked Brown, somewhat placated.

"As soon as you please."