A few minutes later they said good-bye to the aged musician and took the trail that led through Spotville.
The day's trip was without event.

They encountered one or two Indians on the way, jogging slowly along on their shaggy ponies; but the creatures were mild and inoffensive.

The road was fairly good and they made excellent time, so that long before twilight Spotville was reached and the party had taken possession of the one small and primitive "hotel" the place afforded.

It was a two-story, clapboarded building, the lower floor being devoted to the bar and dining room, while the second story was divided into box-like bedrooms none too clean and very cheaply furnished.
"I imagine we shall find this place 'the limit'," remarked Uncle John ruefully.

"But surely we shall be able to stand it for one night," he added, with a philosophic sigh.
"Want meat fer supper ?" asked the landlord, a tall, gaunt man who considered himself dressed when he was in his shirt sleeves.
"What kind of meat ?" inquired Uncle John, cautiously.
"Kin give yeh fried pork er jerked beef.