Pete was amazed by the lights and the clamor--a stringed orchestra
playing in this open front, and a hot-dog vender declaiming in this
open front; a moving-picture entrance brilliantly illuminated, and a
constant movement of folk up and down the streets in free-and-easy
fashion, and he almost forgot the cumulative hazards of their
companionship in experiencing his first plunge into city life.
Brevoort, who knew the town, made for a Mexican lodging-house, where
they took a room above the noisy saloon, washed, and after downing a
drink of vile whiskey, crossed the street to a dingy restaurant. Later
they purchased some inconspicuous "town-clothes" which they carried
back to their room.
Pete was for staying right where they were until morning, but Brevoort,
naturally restless, suggested that they go to a moving-picture theater.
They changed their clothes. Pete felt decidedly uncomfortable in the
coat, and was only persuaded to wear it when Brevoort pointed out that
it was a case of either leave their guns in the room or wear something
to cover them. Then came the question of what they were to do with the
money.
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