busses through a passage between two ropes. The Colonel became alert. As each passenger or group came to the runners he made a sign with his whip. The runners caught it and shunted the passenger to one or the other of the waiting busses. Thus Colonel Peyton segregated the sheep from the goats, sending the former to the Fremont and the latter to the San Antonio. At times there was a little argument from someone who had been to Arguello before and who had ideas as to where he wanted to stop. But this did him little good.
"There are no rooms, left at the Fremont," said the runner of the San Antonio: a statement corroborated on appeal by the Fremont official. If the individual proved obstinate and said he would go see for himself, no objection was made. But the clerk, tipped off by the porter, who in turn had been tipped off by the runner, was very sorry, but
All this the Colonel explained to Boyd in answer to questions while the initial stage of selection was going on.
"I look on the Fremont as a little different from the usual hotel," he explained, sincerely. "People come there to spend the whole season; and they like to get acquainted with each other and I like to get acquainted with them. So, naturally, you don't want anybody there you would not care to know."
When the busload should arrive at the Fremont, and should go to their rooms, they would find there baskets of roses with the Colonel's personal card. And when they left, whether their stay had been three months or three days, they would be presented, to refresh the journey, with a basket of fine fruit, again with Colonel Peyton's personal card. It was his custom.
II
The Colonel drove rapidly back to the hotel.
"I am sorry to desert you so abruptly, sir," he said courteously, "but I have considerable business now to attend. I trust we shall meet often."
"It has been a most interesting morning," returned Boyd. "You may see more of me than you want. The more I see of your climate and surroundings here, the better I like them."
