“Don't! I say,” growled out the man, without opening his eyes, but seeming bent on continuing his sleep; “I 'll not have it; let me be,-- that's all.” “Are you the landlord of this hotel?” said Layton, with a stout shake by the shoulder. “Well, then, here's for it, if you will!” cried the other, springing up, and throwing himself in an instant into a boxing attitude, while his eyes glared with a vivid wildness, and his whole face denoted passion. “I came here for food and lodging, and not for a boxing-match, my friend,” said Layton, mildly. “And who said I was your friend?” said the other, fiercely: “who told _you_ that we was raised in the same diggins? and what do you mean, sir, by disturbin' a gentleman in his bed?” “You'll scarcely call that bench a bed, I think?” said Layton, in an accent meant to deprecate all warmth. “And why not, sir? If you choose to dress yourself like a checker-board, I 'm not going to dispute whether you have a coat on. It's _my_ bed, and I like it. And now what next?” “I 'm very sorry to have disturbed you; and if you can only tell me if there be any other hotel in this place--” “There ain't; and there never will be, that's more. Elsmore's is shut up; Chute Melchin 's a-blown his brains out; and so would _you_ if you 'd have come here. Don't laugh, or by the everlastin' rattlesnake, I 'll bowie you!” The madly excited look of the man, his staring eyes, retreating forehead, and restless features made Layton suspect he was insane, and he would gladly have retired from an interview that promised so little success; but the other walked deliberately round, and, barring the passage to the door, stood with his arms crossed before him. “You think I don't know you, but I do; I heerd of you eight weeks ago; I knew you was comin', but darm me all blue if you shall have it. Come out into the orchard; come out, I say, and let's see who's the best man. _You_ think you 'll come here and make this like the Astor House, don't ye? and there 'll be five or six hundred every night pressing up to the bar for bitters and juleps, just because you have the place? But I say Dan Heron ain't a-goin' to quit; he stands here like old Hickory in the mud-fort, and says, try and turn me out.” By the time the altercation had reached thus far, Layton saw that a crowd of some five-and-twenty or thirty persons had assembled outside the door, and were evidently enjoying the scene with no common zest. Indeed, their mutterings of “Dan 's a-givin' it to him,” “Dan 's full steam up,” and so on, showed where their sympathies inclined. Some, however, more kindly-minded, and moved by the unfriended position of the stranger, good-naturedly interposed, and, having obtained Layton's sincere and willing assurance that he never harbored a thought of becoming proprietor of the Temple, nor had he the very vaguest notion of settling down at Bunkumville in any capacity, peace was signed, and Mr. Heron consented to receive him as a guest.