After supper I asked the
landlord if he could fix us for the night.
"'I can jest fix ye, and no more,' said he; 'I have just one room left.
Ye's'll have to double up; but this is the kind o' weather for that;
it'll be warmer.'
"The Kid objected, but the landlord bluffed him--didn't have any other
room--and he added: 'If I was your pardner there, I'd kick ye down to
the foot, such a cold strip of bacon as ye must be.'
"About nine o'clock the Kid slipped out, and not coming in for an hour,
I went to look for him. As I went toward the engine, I met the watchman:
"'Phy don't that fireman o' yourn sleep in the house or on the caboose
floor such a night as this? He'll freeze up there in that cab wid no
blankets at all; but when I tould him that, he politely informed meself
that he'd knowed men to git rich mindin' their own biz. He's a sassy
slip of a Yankee.'
"I climbed up on the big consolidation, and, lighting my torch, looked
over the boiler-head at the Kid. He was lying on a board on the seat,
with his overcoat for a covering and an arm-rest for a pillow.
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