I rode down and cut the west road from Ft. Smith not far from the stage stop. I headed up that trail and pulled up and was confronted by a man with a shotgun who wanted to know who I was and what did I want. While I was explaining myself the old woman came out and vouched for me. I was allowed to get down and come in. She said, "Don't mind my son, he quit the stage and took over this place. He's a little touchy about strangers, you know."
I went in and took off my hat, it being the polite thing to do, and sat down at the table which was laid out for anybody to eat. I served myself up a plate of meat and potatoes and dug in. Soon there was the sound of a coach arriving.
