when he awakened it was dark and he heard voices coming up from below. They came from the room he had refused to take. One expression banished all thoughts of sleep from his mind and he listened intently. "'Red-headed Irish gunman.' Why, they means me! 'Make him hop into h—l.' I don't reckon I 'd do that for anybody, even my friends."
"I tried to give 'im this room, but 'e would n't tyke it" protested the proprietor, hurriedly. "'E says the bloody room was n't good enough for 'im, hand 'e marches me out hand makes off. Likely 'e 's in 'Awley's."
"No, he ain't," growled a strange voice. "You 've gone an' bungled th' whole thing."
"But I s'y I did n't, you know. I tries to give 'im this werry room, George, but 'e would n't 'ave it. D'y think I wants 'im running haround this blooming town? 'E 's worse nor the other, hand Gawd knows 'e was bad enough. 'E 's a cold-blooded beggar, 'e is!"
"You missed yore chance," grunted the other. "Wish I had that gun you had."
