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Updated: June 13, 2025
Billy, here, knows 'em. Ask him." By this time the youngster had ranged up alongside the adjutant and was laughingly enjoying the latest arrival's tirade at the expense of the headquarters' staff, but at his closing words Lieutenant Billy's grin of amusement suddenly left his face, giving way to a look of blank amaze. "I know 'em! I haven't been east of the Big Muddy since I was a kid."
There was a cluster of flies on the open page of the hotel register, where somebody had put down a sticky piece of chocolate candy and left it. This choice confection covered three or four lines immediately below the last arrival's name, its little trickling rivulets, which the flies were licking up, spreading like a spider's legs.
Not sure of the new arrival's purpose, he backed to the wall. He knew the voice and he recognized its owner. "Put it in your pocket, Mr. Carmichael. And let us finish this discussion in English, since there are many ears about the place." "His royal highness?" murmured the king. "Yes, sire! True to life!"
A middle-aged man, not quite so western in appearance as the others, but plainly as much at home in the saddle, rode up with a clatter and sprang from his pony. Ned advanced quickly, spurred on by the new arrival's quick "Howdy, strangers!" "My name is Ned Napier," explained the lad, "and this is my friend, Alan Hope." The rider held out his hand.
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