A smelly lamp shed a yellowish glare along a hall. I pushed open the
first door, and, entering the room, bolted myself in. Then all the strength
went out of my legs. When I sat down on the bed I was in a cold sweat and
shaking like a leaf. Soon the weakness passed, and I moved about the room,
trying to find a lamp or candle. Evidently the hotel, and, for that matter,
the town of Holston, did not concern itself with such trifles as lights. On
the instant I got a bad impression of Holston. I had to undress in the
dark. When I pulled the window open a little at the top the upper sash slid
all the way down. I managed to get it back, and tried raising the lower
sash. It was very loose, but it stayed up. Then I crawled into bed.
Though I was tired and sleepy, my mind whirled so that I could not get to
sleep. If I had been honest with myself I should have wished myself back
home. Pennsylvania seemed a long way off, and the adventures that I had
dreamed of did not seem so alluring, now that I was in a lonely room in a
lonely, dark town. Buell had seemed friendly and kind--at least, in the
beginning. Why had he not answered my call? The incident did not look well
to me. Then I fell to wondering if the Mexican had really followed me. The
first thing for me in the morning would be to buy a revolver.
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