tell of a stick-up party on a night like this? No, sir! These here
stick-up gents got more sense than that; they'd be settin' nice an' snug
an' dry like us fellers, right now."

As usual, old man Adams had stated a theory with emphasis and utterly
without any previous reflection, being a positive soul, but never a
brilliant. And, again quite as usual, a theory stated was naturally to
be combated with more or less violence. Out of the innocent enough
statement there grew a long, devious argument. An argument which was at
its height and evincing no signs of ever getting anywhere at all, when
from the night without came the rattle of wheels, the jingle of harness
chains and Hap Smith's voice shouting out the tidings of his tardy
arrival.

The front door was flung open, lamps and candles and log fire all danced
in the sudden draft and some of the flickering flames went out, and the
first one of Hap Smith's belated passengers, a young girl, was fairly
blown into the room. She, like the rest, was drenched and as she
hastened across the floor to the welcome fire trailed rain water from
her cape and dress. But her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks rosy with
the rude wooing of the outside night. After her, stamping noisily, glad
of the light and warmth and a prospect of food and drink, came Hap
Smith's other passengers, four booted men from the mines and the cattle
country.

To the last man of them in the road house they gave her their immediate
and exclusive attention. Briefly suspended were all such operations as
smoking, drinking, newspaper reading or card playing. They looked at her
gravely, speculatively and with frankly unhidden interest. One man who
had laid a wet coat aside donned it again swiftly and surreptitiously.