The thought of it made him sick. Mrs. Marsh, the landlady, was very

friendly and hoped he would like her house--they all liked it, she said.

"And they're a very nice set of boys. They carry on a good deal, but

that's their fun. You see, this room opens right into this back one,

and sometimes they're all in one and sometimes in the other; and hot

nights they all sleep on the roof when it don't rain. They get out there

the minute it's hot enough. The season's so early that they've already

had a night or two up there. If you'd like to go up and pick out a

place, you can. You'll find chalk in the side of the chimney where

there's a brick wanting. You just take the chalk and--but of course

you've done it before."

"Oh, no, I haven't."

"Why, of course you haven't--what am I thinking of? Plenty of room on the

Plains without chalking, I'll be bound. Well, you just chalk out a place

the size of a blanket anywhere on the tin that ain't already marked off,

you know, and that's your property. You and your bed-mate take turnabout

carrying up the blanket and pillows and fetching them down again;

or one carries them up and the other fetches them down, you fix it the

way you like, you know. You'll like the boys, they're everlasting

sociable--except the printer. He's the one that sleeps in that single

bed--the strangest creature; why, I don't believe you could get that man

to sleep with another man, not if the house was afire. Mind you, I'm not

just talking, I know. The boys tried him, to see. They took his bed out

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The American Claimant