“Them pants all wool, now?” asked he, as he viewed them with various inclinations of head, like a connoisseur examining a picture.

“All except the stripes,” replied Walker;—­“stripes is wool and cotton mixed; gives ’em a finer grain, you see, and catches the eye.”

The landlord respected Walker at once.  Perhaps he might be an Eastern dry-goods merchant, come along for the purpose of making arrangements to inundate the border-territory with stuffs for exquisite pantaloons.  He proceeded with his interrogatories.  He laid himself out to extract from Walker all manner of information as to his origin, occupation, and prospects, which gave the latter an excellent opportunity of glorifying himself inferentially, while he affected mystery and reticence with regard to his mission “out West.”  At last the landlord set him down for an agent come on to open the sluices for a great tide of foreign emigration into the territory,—­an event to which he himself had been looking for a long time, and the prospect of which had guided him to the spot where he had established his hotel, which he now looked upon as the centre from which a great city was destined immediately to radiate.  And the landlord retired to his bed to meditate upon immense speculations in town-lots, and, when sleep came upon him, to dream that he had successfully arranged them through the medium of an angel with a speaking-trumpet, whose manifest wardrobe consisted of a pair of fancy pantaloons with stripes on the seams and side-pockets, exactly like Walker’s.

Walker, too, retired to rest, but not to sleep, for his mind was occupied in turning over means whereby to obtain some of the real capital with which people here seemed to be superabundantly provided.  He had speculations to carry out, and money was the indispensable element.  Had he only been able to read the landlord’s thoughts, he might have turned quietly over and slept; for so held was that person’s mind by the idea that his ultimate success was to be achieved through the medium of his unknown guest, that he would without hesitation have lent him double the sum necessary for his financial arrangements.

There was a disturbance some time about the middle of the night.  People came along in wagons, as usual, waking up the bar-keeper, whose dreams perpetually ran upon that kind of trouble.  Walker, who was wide awake, gathered from the conversation below that the travellers had only halted for drinks, and would immediately resume their way westward with all speed.  He arose and looked out at the open window, which was about fifteen feet from the ground.  Something white loomed up through the darkness:  it was the awning of one of the wagons, which stood just under the window, to the sill of which it reached within a few feet.  Walker, brought up in the rough-and-ready school, had lain down to rest with his trousers on.  A sudden inspiration now seized him:  he slipped them rapidly off, and dropped them silently on to the roof of the wagon, which soon after moved on with the others, and disappeared into the night.  This done, he opened softly the door of the room, and, leaving it ajar, returned to bed and slept.