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Joe's Luck by Horatio Alger, Jr.

Part 2 out of 4

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"Then," said the officer, "it seems clearly proved that our German
friend here had the money he claims. Now, I suggest that the two men
he has said occupied bunks nearest to him shall be searched. But
first, if the man who has taken the money will come forward
voluntarily and return the same, I will guarantee that he shall
receive no punishment."

He paused for a brief space and looked at Hogan.

Hogan seemed uneasy, but stolid and obstinate.

"Since my offer is not accepted," said the officer, "let the two men
be searched."

Fritz, the young German, came forward readily.

"I am ready," he said.

"I am not," said Hogan. "I protest against this outrage. It is an
infringement of my rights as an American citizen. If any one dares
to lay hands on me, I will have him arrested as soon as we reach

His threat produced no effect upon the officer. At a signal two
sailors seized him, and, despite his struggles, turned his pockets
inside out.

Among the contents were found four gold eagles.

"It is my money!" exclaimed the poor German.

"You lie! The money is mine!" said Hogan furiously.

"There was a cross, which I scratched with a pin, on one piece," said
the German. "Look! see if it is there."

Examination was made, and the scratch was found just as he described

"The money evidently belongs to the German," said the officer. "Give
it to him."

"You are robbing me of my money," said Hogan.

"Look here, my friend, you had better be quiet," said the officer
significantly, "or I will have you tied up to keep out of mischief.
You are getting off very well as it is. I have no doubt you have
been up to other dishonest tricks before this one."

"That is true, sir," said Joe, speaking up for the first time. "This
is the same man who sold me a bogus ticket, two days before we
sailed, for fifty dollars."

"It's a lie!" said Hogan. "I'll be even with you some time, boy, for
that lie of yours."

"I don't care for the threats of such a scoundrel as you are," said
Joe undauntedly.

"Look out for him, Joe," said Folsom. "He will try to do you a
mischief some time."

He would have been confirmed in his opinion had he observed the
glance of hatred with which the detected thief followed his young



At the isthmus they exchanged steamers, crossing the narrow neck of
land on the backs of mules. To-day the journey is more rapidly and
comfortably made in a railroad-car. Of the voyage on the Pacific
nothing need be said. The weather was fair, and it was uneventful.

It was a beautiful morning in early September when they came in sight
of the Golden Gate, and, entering the more placid waters of San
Francisco Bay, moored at a short distance from the town.

"What do you think of it, Joe?" asked Charles Folsom.

"I don't know," said Joe slowly. "Is this really San Francisco?"

"It is really San Francisco."

"It doesn't seem to be much built up yet," said Joe.

In fact, the appearance of the town would hardly suggest the stately
capital of to-day, which looks out like a queen on the bay and the
ocean, and on either side opens her arms to the Eastern and Western
continents. It was a town of tents and one-story cabins, irregularly
and picturesquely scattered over the hillside, with here and there a
sawmill, where now stand some of the most prominent buildings of the
modern city. For years later there was a large mound of sand where
now the stately Palace Hotel covers two and a half acres. Where now
stand substantial business blocks, a quarter of a century since there
appeared only sandy beaches or mud-flats, with here and there a
wooden pier reaching out into the bay. Only five years before the
town contained but seventy-nine buildings--thirty-one frame,
twenty-six adobe, and the rest shanties. It had grown largely since
then, but even now was only a straggling village, with the air of
recent settlement.

"You expected something more, Joe, didn't you?"

"Yes," admitted Joe.

"You must remember how new it is. Ten years, nay, five, will work a
great change in this straggling village. We shall probably live to
see it a city of a hundred thousand inhabitants."

The passengers were eager to land. They were tired of the long
voyage and anxious to get on shore. They wanted to begin making
their fortunes.

"What are your plans, Joe?" asked Charles Folsom.

"I shall accept the first job that offers," said Joe. "I can't
afford to remain idle long with my small capital."

"Joe," said the young man seriously, "let me increase your capital
for you. You can pay me back, you know, when it is convenient.
Here, take this gold piece."

Our young hero shook his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Folsom," he said, "you are very kind, but I think it
will be better for me to shift on what I have. Then I shall have to
go to work at once, and shall get started in my new career."

"Suppose you can't find work?" suggested Folsom.

"I will find it," said Joe resolutely.

"Perhaps we might take lodgings together, Joe."

"I can't afford it," said Joe. "You're a gentleman of property, and
I'm a poor boy who has his fortune to make. For the present I must
expect to rough it."

"Well, Joe, perhaps you are right. At any rate, I admire your pluck
and independent spirit."

There was a motley crowd collected on the pier and on the beach when
Joe and his friend landed. Rough, bearded men, in Mexican sombreros
and coarse attire--many in shirt-sleeves and with their pantaloons
tucked in their boots--watched the new arrivals with interest.

"You needn't feel ashamed of your clothes, Joe," said Folsom, with a
smile. "You are better dressed than the majority of those we see."

Joe looked puzzled.

"They don't look as if they had made their fortunes," he said.

"Don't judge by appearances. In a new country people are careless of
appearances. Some of these rough fellows, no doubt, have their
pockets full of gold."

At this moment a rough-looking fellow stepped forward and said

"Isn't this Charles Folsom?"

"Yes," answered Folsom, puzzled.

"You don't remember me?" said the other, laughing.

"Not I."

"Not remember Harry Carter, your old chum?"

"Good Heaven!" exclaimed Folsom, surveying anew the rough figure
before him. "You don't mean to say you are Harry Carter?"

"The same, at your service."

"What a transformation! Why, you used to be rather a swell and

"Now I look like a barbarian."

"Well, rather," said Folsom, laughing.

"You want me to explain? Such toggery as I used to wear would be the
height of folly at the mines."

"I hope you have had good luck," said Folsom.

"Pretty fair," said Carter, in a tone of satisfaction. "My pile has
reached five thousand dollars."

"And how long have you been at work?"

"A year. I was a bookkeeper in New York on a salary of fifteen
hundred dollars a year. I used to spend all my income--the more fool
I--till the last six months, when I laid by enough to bring me out

"Then you have really bettered yourself?"

"I should say so. I could only save up five hundred dollars a year
at the best in New York. Here I have crowded ten years into one."

"In spite of your large outlay for clothes?"

"I see you will have your joke. Now, what brings you out here? Are
you going to the mines?"

"Presently, but not to dig. I came to survey the country."

"Let me do what I can for you."

"I will. First, what hotel shall I go to?"

"There is the Leidesdorff House, on California Street. I'll lead you

"Thank you. Will you come, Joe?"

"Yes, I will go to find out where it is."

The three bent their steps to the hotel referred to. It was a shanty
compared with the magnificent hotels which now open their portals to
strangers, but the charge was ten dollars a day and the fare was of
the plainest.

"I guess I won't stop here," said Joe, "My money wouldn't keep me
here more than an hour or two."

"At any rate, Joe, you must dine with me," said Folsom. "Then you
may start out for yourself."

"You must dine with me, both of you," said Carter.

Folsom saw that he was in earnest, and accepted.

The dinner was plain but abundant, and all three did justice to it.
Joe did not know till afterward that the dinner cost five dollars

After dinner the two friends sat down to talk over old times and
mutual friends, but Joe felt that there was no time for him to lose.
He had his fortune to make. Still more important, he had his living
to make, and in a place where dollars were held as cheap as dimes in
New York or Boston.

So, emerging into the street, with his small bundle under his arm, he
bent his steps as chance directed.



Joe knew nothing about the streets or their names. Chance brought
him to Clay Street, between what is now Montgomery and Kearny
Streets. Outside of a low wooden building, which appeared to be a
restaurant, was a load of wood.

"I wonder if I couldn't get the chance to saw and split that wood?"
thought Joe.

It would not do to be bashful. So he went in.

A stout man in an apron was waiting on the guests. Joe concluded
that this must be the proprietor.

"Sit down, boy," said he, "if you want some dinner."

"I've had my dinner," said Joe. "Don't you want that wood outside
sawed and split?"


"Let me do it."

"Go ahead."

There was a saw and saw-horse outside. The work was not new to Joe,
and he went at it vigorously. No bargain had been made, but Joe knew
so little of what would be considered a fair price that in this first
instance he chose to leave it to his employer.

As he was at work Folsom and his friend passed by.

"Have you found a job already?" said Folsom.

"Yes, sir."

"You have kept your promise, Joe. You said you would take the first
job that offered."

"Yes, Mr. Folsom; I meant what I said."

"Come round to the Leidesdorff House this evening and tell me how you
made out."

"Thank you, sir, I will."

"That seems a smart boy," said Carter.

"Yes, he is. Help him along if you have a chance."

"I will. I like his pluck."

"He has no false pride. He is ready to do anything."

"Everybody is here. You know Jim Graves, who used to have his
shingle up as a lawyer on Nassau Street?"

"Yes. Is he here?"

"He has been here three months. What do you think he is doing?"

"I couldn't guess."

"I don't think you could. He has turned drayman." Charles Folsom
gazed at his friend in wonder.

"Turned drayman!" he exclaimed. "Is he reduced to that?"

"Reduced to that! My dear fellow, you don't understand the use of
language. Graves is earning fifteen dollars a day at his business,
and I don't believe he made that in New York in a month."

"Well, it is a strange state of society. Does he mean to be a
drayman all his life?"

"Of course not. A year hence he may be a capitalist, or a lawyer
again. Meanwhile he is saving money."

"He is a sensible man, after all; but, you see, Carter, it takes time
to adjust my ideas to things here. The first surprise was your rough

"There is one advantage my rough life has brought me," said Carter.
"It has improved my health. I was given to dyspepsia when I lived in
New York. Now I really believe I could digest a tenpenny nail,
or--an eating-house mince pie, which is more difficult."

"You have steep hills in San Francisco."

"Yes, it is something of a climb to the top of Clay Street Hill.
When you get to the top you get a fine view, though."

Now the hill may be ascended in cars drawn up the steeply graded
sides by an endless rope running just below the surface. No such
arrangement had been thought of then. Folsom gave out when he had
completed half the ascent.

"I'll be satisfied with the prospect from here," he said.

Meanwhile Joe kept steadily at his task.

"It will take me three hours and a half, possibly four," he said to
himself, after a survey of the pile. "I wonder what pay I shall

While thus employed many persons passed him.

One among them paused and accosted him.

"So you have found work already?" he said.

Looking up, Joe recognized Harry Hogan, the man who had swindled him.
He didn't feel inclined to be very social with this man.

"Yes," said he coldly.

"Rather strange work for a first-class passenger."

He envied Joe because he had traveled first-class, while he had
thought himself fortunate, with the help his dishonesty gave him, in
being able to come by steerage.

"It is very suitable employment for a boy who has no money," said Joe.

"How much are you going to be paid for the job?" asked Hogan, with
sudden interest, for ten dollars constituted his only remaining funds.

If his theft on shipboard had not been detected he would have been
better provided.

"I don't know," said Joe shortly.

"You didn't make any bargain, then?"


"What are you going to do next?" inquired Hogan.

"I don't know," said Joe.

Hogan finally moved off.

"I hate that boy," he soliloquized. "He puts on airs for a country
boy. So he's getting too proud to talk to me, is he? We'll see, Mr.
Joseph Mason."

Joe kept on till his task was completed, put on his coat and went
into the restaurant.

It was the supper-hour.

"I've finished the job," said Joe, in a businesslike tone.

The German took a look at Joe's work.

"You did it up good," he said. "How much you want?"

"I don't know. What would be a fair price?"

"I will give you some supper and five dollars."

Joe could hardly believe his ears. Five dollars and a supper for
four hours' work! Surely he had come to the Land of Gold in very

"Will dat do?"

"Oh, yes," said Joe. "I didn't expect so much."

"You shouldn't tell me dat. It isn't business."

Joe pocketed the gold piece which he received with a thrill of
exultation. He had never received so much in value for a week's work
before. Just then a man paid two dollars for a very plain supper.

"That makes my pay seven dollars," said Joe to himself. "If I can
get steady work, I can get rich very quick," he thought.

There was one thing, however, that Joe did not take into account. If
his earnings were likely to be large, his expenses would be large,
too. So he might receive a good deal of money and not lay up a cent.

"Shall you have any more work to do?" asked Joe.

"Not shoost now," answered the German. "You can look round in a
week. Maybe I have some then."



Before going to the Leidesdorff House to call upon his friend Folsom,
Joe thought he would try to make arrangements for the night.

He came to the St. Francis Hotel, on the corner of Dupont and Clay
Streets. There was an outside stair that led to the balcony that ran
all round the second story. The doors of the rooms opened upon this

A man came out from the office.

"Can I get lodging here?" asked Joe.


"How much do you charge?"

"Three dollars."

"He must take me for a millionaire," thought Joe.

"I can't afford it," he said.

As Joe descended the stairs he did not feel quite so rich. Six
dollars won't go far when lodging costs three dollars and supper two.

Continuing his wanderings, Joe came to a tent, which seemed to be a
hotel in its way, for it had "Lodgings" inscribed on the canvas in

"What do you charge for lodgings?" Joe inquired.

"A dollar," was the reply.

Looking in, Joe saw that the accommodations were of the plainest.
Thin pallets were spread about without pillows. Joe was not used to
luxury but to sleep here would be roughing it even for him. But he
was prepared to rough it, and concluded that he might as well pass
the night here.

"All right!" said he. "I'll be round by and by."

"Do you want to pay in advance to secure your bed?"

"I guess not; I'll take the risk."

Joe went on to the Leidesdorff Hotel and was cordially received by
Mr. Folsom.

"How much have you earned to-day, Joe?"

"Five dollars and my supper."

"That's good. Is the job finished?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you have nothing in view for to-morrow?"

"No, sir; but I guess I shall run across a job."

"Where are you going to spend the night?"

"In a tent a little way down the street."

"How much will they charge you?"

"One dollar."

"I wish my bed was large enough to hold two; you should be welcome to
a share of it. But they don't provide very wide bedsteads in this

Mr. Folsom's bed was about eighteen inches wide.

"Thank you, sir," said Joe; "I shall do very well in the tent, I am

"I am thinking of making a trip to the mines with my friend Carter,"
continued Folsom. "Very likely we shall start to-morrow. Do you
want to go with us?"

"I expect to go to the mines," said Joe, "but I think I had better
remain awhile in San Francisco, and lay by a little money. You know
I am in debt."

"In debt?"

"Yes, for my passage. I should like to pay that off."

"There is no hurry about it, Joe."

"I'd like to get it off my mind, Mr. Folsom."

About nine o'clock Joe left the hotel and sought the tent where he
proposed to pass the night. He was required to pay in advance, and
willingly did so.



Joe woke up at seven o'clock the next morning. Though his bed was
hard, he slept well, for he was fatigued. He stretched himself and
sat up on his pallet. It is needless to say that he had not
undressed. Three or four men were lying near him, all fast asleep
except one, and that one he recognized as Henry Hogan.

"Halloo!" said Hogan. "You here?"

"Yes," said Joe, not overpleased at the meeting.

"We seem to keep together," said Hogan, with a grin.

"So it seems," said Joe coldly.

Hogan, however, seemed disposed to be friendly.

"Pretty rough accommodations for the money."

"It doesn't make so much difference where money is earned easily."

"How much money did you make yesterday?"

Joe's first thought was to tell him it was none of his business, but
he thought better of it.

"I made seven dollars," said he, rather proudly.

"Pretty good, but I beat you," said Hogan.

"How much did you make?"

"I'll show you."

Hogan showed five half-eagles.

"I made it in ten minutes," he said.

Joe was decidedly mystified.

"You are fooling me," he said.

"No, I am not. I made it at the gaming-table."

"Oh!" said Joe, a little startled, for he had been brought up to
think gambling wicked.

"Better come and try your luck with me," said Hogan. "It is easier
and quicker than sawing wood."

"Perhaps it is," said Joe, "but I'd rather saw wood."

"I suspect you are a young Puritan."

"Perhaps I am," said Joe. "At any rate, I don't mean to gamble."

"Just as you like. I can't afford to be so particular."

"You don't seem to be very particular," said Joe.

"What do you mean?" inquired Hogan suspiciously.

"You know well enough," said Joe. "You know the way you had of
getting money in New York. You know the way you tried to get it on
board the steamer."

"Look here, young fellow," said Hogan menacingly, "I've heard enough
of this. You won't find it safe to run against me. I'm a tough
customer, you'll find."

"I don't doubt it," said Joe.

"Then just be careful, will you? I ain't going to have you slander
me and prejudice people against me, and I mean to protect myself. Do
you understand me?"

"I think I do, Mr. Hogan, but I don't feel particularly alarmed."

Joe got up and went out in search of breakfast. Be thought of the
place where he took supper but was deterred from going there by the
high prices.

"I suppose I shall have to pay a dollar for my breakfast," he
thought, "but I can't afford to pay two. My capital is reduced to
five dollars and I may not be able to get anything to do to-day."

Joe finally succeeded in finding a humble place where for a dollar he
obtained a cup of coffee, a plate of cold meat, and as much bread as
he could eat.

"I shall have to make it do with two meals a day," thought our hero.
"Then it will cost me three dollars a day to live, including lodging,
and I shall have to be pretty lucky to make that."

After breakfast Joe walked about the streets, hoping that something
would turn up. But his luck did not seem to be so good as the day
before. Hour after hour passed and no chance offered itself. As he
was walking along feeling somewhat anxious, he met Hogan.

"Lend me a dollar," said Hogan quickly. "I'm dead broke."

"Where has all your money gone?" asked Joe,

"Lost it at faro. Lend me a dollar and I'll win it all back."

"I have no money to spare," said Joe decidedly.

"Curse you for a young skinflint!" said Hogan, scowling. "I'll get
even with you yet."



About four o'clock Joe went into a restaurant and got some dinner.
In spite of his wish to be economical, his dinner bill amounted to a
dollar and a half, and now his cash in hand was reduced to two
dollars and a half.

Joe began to feel uneasy.

"This won't do," he said to himself. "At this rate I shall soon be
penniless. I must get something to do."

In the evening he strolled down Montgomery Street to Telegraph Hill.
It was not a very choice locality, the only buildings being shabby
little dens, frequented by a class of social outlaws who kept
concealed during the day but came out at night--a class to which the
outrages frequent at this time were rightly attributed.

Joe was stumbling along the uneven path, when all at once he found
himself confronted by a tall fellow wearing a slouched hat. The man
paused in front of him, but did not say a word. Finding that he was
not disposed to move aside, Joe stepped aside himself. He did not as
yet suspect the fellow's purpose. He understood it, however, when a
heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Quick, boy, your money!" said the ruffian.

Having but two dollars and a half, Joe naturally felt reluctant to
part with it, and this gave him the courage to object.

"I've got none to spare," he said and tried to tear himself away.

His resistance led the fellow to suspect that he had a considerable
sum with him. Joe felt himself seized and carried into a den close
by, which was frequented by thieves and desperate characters.

There was a counter, on which was set a dim oil-lamp. There were a
few bottles in sight, and a villainous-looking fellow appeared to
preside over the establishment. The latter looked up as Joe was
brought in.

"Who have you there?" asked the barkeeper.

"A young cove as don't want to part with his money."

"You'd better hand over what you've got, young 'un."

Joe looked from one to the other and thought he had never seen such
villainous faces before.

"What are you lookin' at?" demanded his captor suspiciously, "You
want to know us again, do you? Maybe you'd like to get us hauled up,
would you?"

"I don't want ever to set eyes on you again."

"That's the way to talk. As soon as our business is over, there
ain't no occasion for our meetin' again. Don't you go to point us
out, or----"

He didn't finish the sentence, but whipped out a long knife, which
made any further remarks unnecessary.

Under the circumstances, resistance would be madness and Joe drew out
his money.

"Is that all you've got?" demanded the thief.

"Every cent," said Joe. "It won't leave me anything to pay for my
night's lodging."

"Then you can sleep out. I've done it many a time. But I'll take
the liberty of searching you, and seeing if you tell the truth or

"Just as you like," said Joe.

Joe was searched, but no more money was found.

"The boy's told the truth," said his captor. "Two dollars and a half
is a pretty small haul."

"I am sorry, gentlemen, that I haven't anything more. It isn't my
fault, for I've tried hard to get something to do to-day, and

"You're a cool customer," said the barkeeper.

"I expect to be to-night, for I shall have to sleep out."

"You can go," said his captor, as he opened the door of the den; "and
don't come round here again, unless you've got more money with you."

"I don't think I shall," said Joe.

When Joe found himself penniless, he really felt less anxious than
when he had at least money enough to pay for lodging and breakfast.
Having lost everything, any turn of fortune must be for the better.

"Something has got to turn up pretty quick," thought Joe. "It's just
as well I didn't get a job to-day. I should only have had more money
to lose."

He had not walked a hundred feet when his attention was called to the
figure of a gentleman walking some rods in front of him. He saw it
but indistinctly, and would not have given it a second thought had he
not seen that the person, whoever he might be, was stealthily
followed by a man who in general appearance resembled the rascal who
had robbed him of his money. The pursuer carried in his hand a
canvas bag filled with sand. This, though Joe did not know it, was a
dangerous weapon in the hands of a lawless human. Brought down
heavily upon the head of an unlucky traveler, it often produced
instant death, without leaving any outward marks that would indicate
death from violence.

Though Joe didn't comprehend the use of the sand-bag, his own recent
experience and the stealthy movement of the man behind convinced him
that mischief was intended. He would have been excusable if, being
but a boy and no match for an able-bodied ruffian, he had got out of
the way. But Joe had more courage than falls to the share of most
boys of sixteen. He felt a chivalrous desire to rescue the
unsuspecting stranger from the peril that menaced him.

Joe, too, imitating the stealthy motion of the pursuer, swiftly
gained upon him, overtaking him just as he had the sand-bag poised
aloft, ready to be brought down upon the head of the traveler.

With a cry, Joe rushed upon the would-be assassin, causing him to
stumble and fall, while the gentleman in front turned round in

Joe sprang to his side.

"Have you a pistol?" he said quickly.

Scarcely knowing what he did, the gentleman drew out a pistol and put
it in Joe's hand. Joe cocked it, and stood facing the ruffian.

The desperado was on his feet, fury in his looks and a curse upon his
lips. He swung the sand-bag aloft.

"Curse you!" he said. "I'll make you pay for this!"

"One step forward," said Joe, in a clear, distinct voice, which
betrayed not a particle of fear, "and I will put a bullet through
your brain!"

The assassin stepped back. He was a coward, who attacked from
behind. He looked in the boy's resolute face, and he saw he was in

"Put down that weapon, you whipper-snapper!"

"Not much!" answered Joe.

"I've a great mind to kill you!"

"I've no doubt of it," said our hero; "but you'd better not attack
me. I am armed, and I will fire if you make it necessary. Now, turn
round and leave us."

"Will you promise not to shoot?"

"Yes, if you go off quietly."

The order was obeyed, but not very willingly.

When the highwayman had moved off, Joe said:

"Now, sir, we'd better be moving, and pretty quickly, or the fellow
may return, with some of his friends, and overpower us. Where are
you stopping?"

"At the Waverly House."

"That is near-by. We will go there at once."

They soon reached the hotel, a large wooden building on the north
side of Pacific Street.

Joe was about to bid his acquaintance good night but the latter
detained him.

"Come in, my boy," he said. "You have done me a great service. I
must know more of you."



"Come up to my room," said the stranger.

He obtained a candle at the office, gas not being used in San
Francisco at that time, and led the way to a small chamber on the
second floor.

"Now, sit down, my boy, and tell me your name."

"Joseph Mason."

"How long have you been here?"

"Less than a week."

"I only arrived yesterday. But for your help, my residence might
have been a brief one."

"I am glad I have been able to be of service to you."

"You were a friend in need, and a friend in need is a friend indeed.
It is only fair that I should be a friend to you. It's a poor rule
that doesn't work both ways."

Joe was favorably impressed with the speaker's appearance. He was a
man of middle height, rather stout, with a florid complexion, and an
open, friendly face.

"Thank you, sir," he said, "I need a friend, and shall be glad of
your friendship."

"Then here's my hand. Take it, and let us ratify our friendship."

Joe took the proffered hand and shook it cordially.

"My name is George Morgan," said the stranger. "I came from
Philadelphia. Now we know each other. Where are you staying?"

Joe's face flushed and he looked embarrassed.

"Just before I came up with you," he answered, thinking frankness
best, "I was robbed of two dollars and a half, all the money I had in
this world. I shall have to stop in the streets to-night."

"Not if I know it," said Morgan emphatically. "This bed isn't very
large, but you are welcome to a share of it. To-morrow we will form
our plans."

"Shan't I inconvenience you, sir?" asked Joe.

"Not a bit," answered Morgan heartily.

"Then I will stay, sir, and thank you. After the adventure I have
had to-night, I shouldn't enjoy being out in the streets."

"Tell me how you came to be robbed. Was it by the same man who made
the attack upon me?"

"No, sir. I wish it had been, as then I should feel even with him.
It was a man that looked very much like him, though."

Joe gave an account of the robbery, to which his new friend listened
with attention.

"Evidently," he said, "the street we were in is not a very safe one.
Have you had any supper?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Luckily, I got that and paid for it before I had my
money taken."

"Good. Now, as I am tired, I will go to bed, and you can follow when
you feel inclined."

"I will go now, sir. I have been walking the streets all day, in
search of work, and, though I found none, I am tired, all the same."

They woke up at seven o'clock.

"How did you rest, Joe?" asked George Morgan.

"Very well, sir."

"Do you feel ready for breakfast?"

"As soon as I can earn money enough to pay for it."

"Don't trouble yourself about that. You are going to breakfast with

"You are very kind, Mr. Morgan, but I wish you had some work for me
to do, so that I could pay you."

"That may come after awhile. It might not be safe to delay your
breakfast till you could pay for it. Remember, you have done me a
great service, which fifty breakfasts couldn't pay for."

"Don't think of that, Mr. Morgan," said Joe modestly. "Anybody would
do what I did."

"I am not sure whether everybody would have the courage. But you
must leave me to show my appreciation of your services in my own way."

They took breakfast in the hotel and walked out.

Though it was early, the town was already astir. People got up early
in those days. Building was going on here and there. Draymen were
piloting heavy loads through the streets--rough enough in general
appearance, but drawn from very unlikely social grades.

"By Jove!" said Morgan, in surprise, his glance resting on a young
man of twenty-five, who was in command of a dray. "Do you hear that

"Is he a foreigner?" asked Joe. "I don't understand what he is

"He is talking to his horse in Greek, quoting from Homer. Look here,
my friend!" he said, hailing the drayman.

"What is it, sir?" said the young man courteously.

"Didn't I hear you quoting Greek just now?"

"Yes, sir."

"How happens it that a classical scholar like you finds himself in
such a position?"

The young man smiled.

"How much do you think I am earning?"

"I can't guess. I am a stranger in this city."

"Twenty dollars a day."

"Capital! I don't feel as much surprised as I did. Are you a
college graduate?"

"Yes, sir. I was graduated at Yale. Then I studied law and three
months since I came out here. It takes time to get into practise at
home and I had no resources to fall back upon. I raised money enough
to bring me to California and came near starving the first week I was
here. I couldn't wait to get professional work, but I had an offer
to drive a dray. I am a farmer's son and was accustomed to hard work
as a boy. I accepted the offer and here I am. I can lay up half my
earnings and am quite satisfied."

"But you won't be a drayman all your life?"

"Oh, no, sir. But I may as well keep at it till I can get into
something more to my taste."

And the young lawyer drove off.

"It's a queer country," said Morgan. "It's hard to gauge a man by
his occupation here, I see."

"I wish I could get a dray to drive," said Joe.

"You are not old enough or strong enough yet. I am looking for some
business myself, Joe, but I can't at all tell what I shall drift
into. At home I was a dry-goods merchant. My partner and I
disagreed and I sold out to him. I drew ten thousand dollars out of
the concern, invested four-fifths of it, and have come out here with
the remainder, to see what I can do."

"Ten thousand dollars! What a rich man you must be!" said Joe.

"In your eyes, my boy. As you get older, you will find that it will
not seem so large to you. At any rate, I hope to increase it

They were walking on Kearny Street, near California Street, when
Joe's attention was drawn, to a sign:


It was a one-story building, of small dimensions, not fashionable,
nor elegant in its appointments, but there wasn't much style in San
Francisco at that time.

"Would you like to buy out the restaurant?" asked Morgan.

"I don't feel like buying anything out with empty pockets," said Joe.

"Let us go in."

The proprietor was a man of middle age.

"Why do you wish to sell out?" asked Morgan.

"I want to go to the mines. I need an out-of-door life and want a

"Does this business pay?"

"Sometimes I have made seventy-five dollars profit in a day."

"How much do you ask for the business?"

"I'll take five hundred dollars, cash."

"Have you a reliable cook?"

"Yes. He knows his business."

"Will he stay?"

"For the present. If you want a profitable business, you will do
well to buy."

"I don't want it for myself. I want it for this young man."

"For this boy?" asked the restaurant-keeper, surprised.

Joe looked equally surprised.



"Do you think you can keep a hotel, Joe?" asked Morgan.

"I can try," said Joe promptly.

"Come in, gentlemen," said the restaurant-keeper.

"We can talk best inside."

The room was small, holding but six tables. In the rear was the

"Let me see your scale of prices," said Morgan.

It was shown him.

"I could breakfast cheaper at Delmonico's," he said.

"And better," said the proprietor of the restaurant; "but I find
people here willing to pay big prices, and, as long as that's the
case, I should be a fool to reduce them. Yes, there's a splendid
profit to be made in the business. I ought to charge a thousand
dollars, instead of five hundred."

"Why don't you?" asked Morgan bluntly.

"Because I couldn't get it. Most men, when they come out here, are
not content to settle down in the town. They won't be satisfied till
they get to the mines."

"That seems to be the case with you, too."

"It isn't that altogether. My lungs are weak and confinement isn't
good for me. Besides, the doctors say the climate in the interior is
better for pulmonary affections."

"What rent do you have to pay?"

"A small ground-rent. I put up this building myself."

"How soon can you give possession?"

"Right off."

"Will you stay here three days, to initiate my young friend into the
mysteries of the business?"

"Oh, yes; I'll do that willingly."

"Then I will buy you out."

In five minutes the business was settled.

"Joe," said Morgan, "let me congratulate you. You are now one of the
business men of San Francisco."

"It seems like a dream to me, Mr. Morgan," said Joe. "This morning
when I waked up I wasn't worth a cent."

"And now you own five hundred dollars," said Mr. Morgan, laughing.

"That wasn't exactly the way I thought of it, sir, but are you not
afraid to trust me to that amount?"

"No, I am not, Joe," said Morgan seriously. "I think you are a boy
of energy and integrity. I don't see why you shouldn't succeed."

"Suppose I shouldn't?"

"I shall not trouble myself about the loss. In all probability, you
saved my life last evening. That is worth to me many times what I
have invested for you."

"I want to give you my note for the money," said Joe. "If I live, I
will pay you, with interest."

"I agree with you. We may as well put it on a business basis."

Papers were drawn up, and Joe found himself proprietor of the
restaurant. He lost no opportunity of mastering the details of the
business. He learned where his predecessor obtained his supplies,
what prices he paid, about how much he required for a day's
consumption, and what was his scale of prices.

"Do you live here, Mr. Brock?" asked Joe.

"Yes; I have a bed, which I lay in a corner of the restaurant. Thus
I avoid the expense of a room outside, and am on hand early for

"I'll do the same," said Joe promptly.

"In that way you will have no personal expenses, except clothing and
washing," said Brock.

"I shall be glad to have no bills to pay for board," said Joe.
"That's rather a steep item here."

"So it is."

"I don't see but I can save up pretty much all I make," said Joe.

"Certainly you can."

In two days Joe, who was naturally quick and whose natural shrewdness
was sharpened by his personal interest, mastered the details of the
business, and felt that he could manage alone.

"Mr. Brock," said he, "you promised to stay with me three days, but I
won't insist upon the third day. I think I can get along well
without you."

"If you can, I shall be glad to leave you at once. The fact is, a
friend of mine starts for the mines to-morrow, and I would like to
accompany him. I asked him to put it off a day, but he thinks he

"Go with him, by all means. I can get along."

So, on the morning of the third day, Joe found himself alone.

At the end of the first week he made a careful estimate of his
expenses and receipts, and found, to his astonishment, that he had
cleared two hundred dollars. It seemed to him almost incredible, and
he went over the calculations again and again. But he could figure
out no other result.

"Two hundred dollars in one week!" he said to himself. "What would
Oscar say to that? It seems like a fairy tale."

Joe did not forget that he was five hundred dollars In debt. He went
to George Morgan, who had bought out for himself a gentlemen's
furnishing store, and said:

"Mr. Morgan, I want to pay up a part of that debt."

"So soon, Joe? How much do you want to pay?"

"A hundred and fifty dollars."

"You don't mean to say that you have cleared that amount?" said
Morgan, in amazement.

"Yes, sir, and fifty dollars more."

"Very well. I will receive the money. You do well to wipe out your
debts as soon as possible."

Joe paid over the money with no little satisfaction.

Without going too much into detail, it may be stated that at the end
of a month Joe was out of debt and had three hundred dollars over.
He called on the owner of the land to pay the monthly ground-rent.

"Why don't you buy the land, and get rid of the rent?" asked the

"Do you want to sell?" asked Joe.

"Yes; I am about to return to the East."

"What do you ask?"

"I own two adjoining lots. You may have them all for a thousand

"Will you give me time?"

"I can't. I want to return at once, and I must have the cash."

A thought struck Joe.

"I will take three hours to consider," said Joe.

He went to George Morgan and broached his business.

"Mr. Morgan," he said, "will you lend me seven hundred dollars?"

"Are you getting into pecuniary difficulties, Joe?" asked Morgan,

"No, sir; but I want to buy some real estate."

"Explain yourself."

Joe did so.

"It is the best thing you can do," said Morgan, "I will lend you the

"I hope to repay it inside of two months," said Joe.

"I think you will, judging from what you have done already."

In two hours Joe had paid over the entire amount, for it will be
remembered that he had three hundred dollars of his own, and was
owner of three city lots.

"Now," thought he, "I must attend to business, and clear off the debt
I have incurred. I shan't feel as if the land is mine till I have
paid for it wholly."

Joe found it a great advantage that he obtained his own board and
lodging free. Though wages were high, the necessary expenses of
living were so large that a man earning five dollars a day was worse
off oftentimes than one who was earning two dollars at the East.

"How shall I make my restaurant more attractive?" thought Joe.

He decided first that he would buy good articles and insist upon as
much neatness as possible about the tables. At many of the
restaurants very little attention was paid to this, and visitors who
had been accustomed to neatness at home were repelled.

Soon Joe's dining-room acquired a reputation, and the patronage
increased. At the end of the third month he had not only paid up the
original loan of seven hundred dollars, but was the owner of the
three lots, and had four hundred dollars over. He began to feel that
his prosperity was founded on a solid basis.

One day about this time, as he was at the desk where he received
money from his patrons as they went out, his attention was drawn to a
rough fellow, having the appearance of a tramp, entering at the door.
The man's face seemed familiar to him, and it flashed upon him that
it was Henry Hogan, who had defrauded him in New York.

The recognition was mutual.

"You here?" he exclaimed, in surprise.

"So it seems," said Joe.

"Is it a good place?"

"I like it."

"Who's your boss?"


"You don't mean to say this is your own place?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I'll be blowed!" ejaculated Hogan, staring stupidly at Joe.



Joe enjoyed Hogan's amazement. He felt rather proud of his rapid
progress. It was not four months since, a poor, country boy, he had
come up to New York, and fallen a prey to a designing sharper. Now,
on the other side of the continent, he was master of a business and
owner of real estate.

The day has passed for such rapid progress. California is no longer
a new country, and the conditions of living closely approximate those
in the East. I am careful to say this because I don't wish to
mislead my young readers. Success is always attainable by pluck and
persistency, but the degree is dependent on circumstances.

"How have you made out?" asked Joe of his visitor.

"I've had hard luck," grumbled Hogan, "I went to the mines, but I
wasn't lucky."

"Was that the case with other miners?" asked Joe, who had a shrewd
suspicion that Hogan's ill luck was largely the result of his
laziness and want of application.

"No," said Hogan. "Other men around me were lucky, but I wasn't."

"Perhaps your claim was a poor one."

"It was, as long as I had anything to do with it," said Hogan. "I
sold it out for a trifle and the next day the other man found a
nugget. Wasn't that cursed hard?" he grumbled.

"You ought to have kept on. Then you would have found the nugget."

"No, I shouldn't. I am too unlucky. If I had held on, it wouldn't
have been there. You've got on well. You're lucky."

"Yes; I have no reason to complain. But I wasn't lucky all the time.
I was robbed of every cent of money, when I met a good friend, who
bought this business for me."

"Does it pay?" asked the other eagerly.

"Yes, it pays," said Joe cautiously.

"How much do you make, say, in a week?" asked Hogan, leaning his
elbows on the counter and looking up in Joe's face.

"Really, Mr. Hogan," said Joe, "I don't feel called upon to tell my
business to others."

"I thought maybe you'd tell an old friend," said Hogan.

Joe could not help laughing at the man's matchless impudence.

"I don't think you have treated me exactly like a friend, Mr. Hogan,"
he said. "You certainly did all you could to prevent my coming to

"There's some mistake about that," said Hogan.

"You're under a misapprehension; but I won't go into that matter now.
Will you trust me for my supper?"

"Yes," said Joe promptly. "Sit down at that table."

The man had treated him badly, but things had turned out favorably
for Joe, and he would not let Hogan suffer from hunger, if he could
relieve him.

Hogan needed no second invitation. He took a seat at a table
near-by, and ate enough for two men, but Joe could not repeat the
invitation he had given. He felt that he could not afford it.

It was rather late when Hogan sat down. When he finished, he was the
only one left in the restaurant, except Joe. He sauntered up to the

"You've got a good cook," said Hogan, picking his teeth with a knife.

"Yes," answered Joe. "I think so."

"You say the business pays well?"

"Yes; it satisfies me."

"Are you alone? Have you no partner?"

"You could do better with one. Suppose you take me into business
with you?"

Joe was considerably surprised at this proposition from a man who had
swindled him.

"How much capital can you furnish?" he asked.

"I haven't got any money. I'm dead broke," said Hogan, "but I can
give my services. I can wait on the table. I'll do that, and you
can give me my board and one-third of the profits. Come, now, that's
a good offer. What do you say?"

Joe thought it best to be candid.

"I don't want any partner, Mr. Hogan," he said; "and I may as well
tell you, I don't think I should care to be associated with you if I

"Do you mean to insult me?" asked Hogan, scowling.

"No; but I may as well be candid."

"What's the matter with me?" asked Hogan roughly.

"I don't like the way you do business," said Joe.

"Look here, young one, you put on too many airs just because you're
keepin' a one-horse restaurant," said Hogan angrily.

"If it's a one-horse restaurant, why do you want to become my
partner?" retorted Joe coolly.

"Because I'm hard up--I haven't got a cent."

"I'm sorry for you; but a man needn't be in that condition long here."

"Where do you sleep?" asked Hogan suddenly.

"Here. I put a bed on the floor in one corner, and so am on hand in
the morning."

"I say," Hogan continued insinuatingly, "won't you let me stay here

"Sleep here?"


"I'd rather not, Mr. Hogan."

"I haven't a cent to pay for a lodging. If you don't take me in, I
shall have to stay in the street all night."

"You've slept out at the mines, haven't you?"


"Then you can do it here."

"You're hard on a poor man," whined Hogan. "It wouldn't cost you
anything to let me sleep here."

"No, it wouldn't," said Joe; "but I prefer to choose my own company
at night."

"I may catch my death of cold," said Hogan.

"I hope not; but I don't keep lodgings," said Joe firmly.

"You haven't any feeling for an unlucky man."

"I have given you your supper, and not stinted you in any way. What
you ate would cost two dollars at my regular prices. I wasn't called
to do it, for you never did me any service, and you are owing me
to-day fifty dollars, which you cheated me out of when I was a poor
boy. I won't let you lodge here, but I will give you a breakfast in
the morning, if you choose to come round. Then you will be
strengthened for a day's work, and can see what you can find to do."

Hogan saw that Joe was in earnest and walked out of the restaurant,
without a word.

When Joe was about to close his doors for the night his attention was
drawn to a man who was sitting down on the ground, a few feet
distant, with his head buried between his two hands, in an attitude
expressive of despondency.

Joe was warm-hearted and sympathetic, and, after a moment's
hesitation, addressed the stranger.

"Is anything the matter with you, sir?" he asked. "Don't you feel

The man addressed raised his head. He was a stout, strongly built
man, roughly dressed, but had a look which inspired confidence.

"I may as well tell you, boy," he answered, "though you can't help
me. I've been a cursed fool, that's what's the matter."

"If you don't mind telling me," said Joe gently, "perhaps I can be of
service to you."

The man shook his head.

"I don't think you can," he said, "but I'll tell you, for all that.
Yesterday I came up from the mines with two thousand dollars. I was
about a year getting it together, and to me it was a fortune. I'm a
shoemaker by occupation, and lived in a town in Massachusetts, where
I have a wife and two young children. I left them a year ago to go
to the mines. I did well, and the money I told you about would have
made us all comfortable, if I could only have got it home."

"Were you robbed of it?" asked Joe, remembering his own experience.

"Yes; I was robbed of it, but not in the way you are thinking of. A
wily scoundrel induced me to enter a gambling-den, the Bella Union,
they call it. I wouldn't play at first, but soon the fascination
seized me. I saw a man win a hundred dollars, and I thought I could
do the same, so I began, and won a little. Then I lost, and played
on to get my money back. In just an hour I was cleaned out of all I
had. Now I am penniless, and my poor family will suffer for my

He buried his face in his hands once more and, strong man as he was,
he wept aloud.

"Have you had any supper, sir?" said Joe compassionately.

"No; but I have no appetite."

"Have you any place to sleep?"


"Then I can offer you a supper and a night's lodging. Don't be
discouraged. In the morning we can talk the matter over, and see
what can be done."

The stranger rose and laid his hand on Joe's arm.

"I don't know how it is," he said, "but your words give me courage.
I believe you have saved my life. I have a revolver left and I had a
mind to blow my brains out."

"Would that have helped you or your family?"

"No, boy. I was a fool to think of it. I'll accept your offer, and
to-morrow I'll see what I can do. You're the best friend I've met
since I left home."



Joe brought out some cold meat and bread and butter, and set it
before his guest.

"The fire's gone out," he said, "or I would give you some tea. Here
is a glass of milk, if you like it."

"Thank you, boy," said his visitor. "Milk is good enough for
anybody. One thing I can say, I've steered clear of liquor. A
brother of mine was intemperate and that was a warning to me. I took
credit to myself for being a steady-going man, compared with many of
my acquaintances out at the mines. But it don't do to boast. I've
done worse, perhaps. I've gambled away the provision I had made for
my poor family."

"Don't take it too hard," said Joe, in a tone of sympathy. "You know
how it is out here. Down to-day and up to-morrow."

"It'll take me a long time to get up to where I was," said the other;
"but it's my fault, and I must make the best of it."

Joe observed, with satisfaction, that his visitor was doing ample
justice to the supper spread before him. With a full stomach, he
would be likely to take more cheerful views of life and the future.
In this thought Joe proved to be correct.

"I didn't think I could eat anything," said the miner, laying down
his knife and fork, twenty minutes later, "but I have made a hearty
supper, thanks to your kindness. Things look a little brighter to me
now. I've had a hard pullback, but all is not lost. I've got to
stay here a year or two longer, instead of going back by the next
steamer; but I must make up my mind to that. What is your name, boy?"

"Joe Mason."

"You've been kind to me, and I won't forget it. It doesn't seem
likely I can return the favor, but I'll do it if ever I can. Good
night to you."

"Where are you going?" asked Joe, surprised, as the miner walked to
the door.

"Out into the street."

"But where do you mean to pass the night?"

"Where a man without money must--in the street."

"But you mustn't do that."

"I shan't mind it. I've slept out at the mines many a night."

"But won't you find it more comfortable here?"

"Yes; but I don't want to intrude. You've given me a good supper and
that is all I can expect."

"He doesn't seem much like Hogan," thought Joe.

"You are welcome to lodge here with me," he said. "It will cost you
nothing and will be more comfortable for you."

"You don't know me, Joe," said the miner. "How do you know but I may
get up in the night and rob you?"

"You could, but I don't think you will," said Joe. "I am not at all
afraid of it. You look like an honest man."

The miner looked gratified.

"You shan't repent your confidence, Joe," he said.

"I'd rather starve than rob a good friend like you. But you mustn't
trust everybody."

"I don't," said Joe. "I refused a man to-night--a man named Hogan."



"What does he look like?"

Joe described him.

"It's the very man," said the miner.

"Do you know him, then?"

"Yes; he was out at our diggings. Nobody liked him, or trusted him.
He was too lazy to work, but just loafed around, complaining of his
luck. One night I caught him in my tent, just going to rob me. I
warned him to leave the camp next day or I'd report him, and the boys
would have strung him up. That's the way they treat thieves out

"It doesn't surprise me to hear it," said Joe. "He robbed me of
fifty dollars in New York."

"He did? How was that?"

Joe told the story.

"The mean skunk!" ejaculated Watson--for this Joe found to be the
miners name. "It's mean enough to rob a man, but to cheat a poor boy
out of all he has is a good deal meaner. And yet you gave him

"Yes. The man was hungry; I pitied him."

"You're a better Christian than I am. I'd have let him go hungry."

Both Joe and the miner were weary and they soon retired, but not to
uninterrupted slumber. About midnight they were disturbed, as the
next chapter will show.



When Hogan left Joe's presence he was far from feeling as grateful as
he ought for the kindness with which our hero had treated him.
Instead of feeling thankful for the bountiful supper, he was angry
because Joe had not permitted him to remain through the night. Had
he obtained this favor, he would have resented the refusal to take
him into partnership. There are some men who are always soliciting
favors, and demanding them as a right, and Hogan was one of them.

Out in the street he paused a minute, undecided where to go. He had
no money, as he had truly said, or he would have been tempted to go
to a gambling-house, and risk it on a chance of making more.

"Curse that boy!" he muttered, as he sauntered along in the direction
of Telegraph Hill. "Who'd have thought a green country clodhopper
would have gone up as he has, while an experienced man of the world
like me is out at the elbows and without a cent!"

The more Hogan thought of this, the more indignant he became.

He thrust both hands into his pantaloons pockets, and strode moodily

"I say it's a cursed shame!" he muttered. "I never did have any
luck, that's a fact. Just see how luck comes to some. With only a
dollar or two in his pocket, this Joe got trusted for a first-class
passage out here, while I had to come in the steerage. Then, again,
he meets some fool, who sets him up in business. Nobody ever
offered to set me up in business!" continued Hogan, feeling aggrieved
at Fortune for her partiality. "Nobody even offered to give me a
start in life. I have to work hard, and that's all the good it does."

The fact was that Hogan had not done a whole day's work for years.
But such men are very apt to deceive themselves and possibly he
imagined himself a hard-working man.

"It's disgusting to see the airs that boy puts on," he continued to
soliloquize. "It's nothing but luck. He can't help getting on, with
everybody to help him. Why didn't he let me sleep in his place
to-night? It wouldn't have cost him a cent."

Then Hogan drifted off into calculations of how much money Joe was
making by his business. He knew the prices charged for meals and
that they afforded a large margin of profit.

The more he thought of it, the more impressed he was with the extent
of Joe's luck.

"The boy must be making his fortune," he said to himself. "Why, he
can't help clearing from one to two hundred dollars a week--perhaps
more. It's a money-making business, there's no doubt of it. Why
couldn't he take me in as partner? That would set me on my legs
again, and in time I'd be rich. I'd make him sell out, and get the
whole thing after awhile."

So Hogan persuaded himself into the conviction that Joe ought to have
accepted him as partner, though why this should be, since his only
claim rested on his successful attempt to defraud him in New York, it
would be difficult to conjecture.

Sauntering slowly along, Hogan had reached the corner of Pacific
Street, then a dark and suspicious locality in the immediate
neighborhood of a number of low public houses of bad reputation. The
night was dark, for there was no moon.

Suddenly he felt himself seized in a tight grip, while a low, stern
voice in his ear demanded:

"Your money, and be quick about it!"

Hogan was not a brave man, but this demand, in his impecunious
condition, instead of terrifying him, struck his sense of humor as an
exceedingly good joke.

"You've got the wrong man!" he chuckled.

"Stop your fooling, and hand over your money, quickly!" was the stern

"My dear friend," said Hogan, "if you can find any money about me,
it's more than I can do myself."

"Are you on the square?" demanded the other suspiciously.

"Look at me, and see."

The highwayman took him at his word. Lighting a match, he surveyed
his captive.

"You don't look wealthy, that's a fact," he admitted. "Where are you

"I don't know. I haven't got any money, nor any place to sleep."

"Then you'd better be leaving this place, or another mistake may be

"Stop!" said Hogan, with a sudden thought. "Though I haven't any
money, I can tell you where we can both find some."

"Do you mean it?"


"Come in here, then, and come to business."

He led Hogan into a low shanty on Pacific Street, and, bidding him be
seated on a broken settee, waited for particulars.



Though Hogan was a scamp in the superlative degree, the burly ruffian
who seated himself by his side looked the character much better. He
was not a man to beat about the bush. As he expressed it, he wanted
to come to business at once.

"What's your game, pard?" he demanded. "Out with it."

Hogan's plan, as the reader has already surmised, was to break into
Joe's restaurant and seize whatever money he might be found to have
on the premises. He recommended it earnestly, for two reasons.
First, a share of the money would be welcome; and, secondly, he would
be gratified to revenge himself upon the boy, whom he disliked
because he had injured him.

Jack Rafferty listened in silence.

"I don't know about it," he said. "There's a risk."

"I don't see any risk. We two ought to be a match for a boy."

"Of course we are. If we wasn't I'd go hang myself up for a milksop.
Are you sure there's no one else with him?"

"Not a soul."

"That's well, so far; but we might be seen from the outside."

"We can keep watch."

"Do you think the boy's got much money about him?"

"Yes; he's making money hand over fist. He's one of those mean chaps
that never spend a cent, but lay it all by. Bah!"

So Hogan expressed his contempt for Joe's frugality.

"All the better for us. How much might there be now, do you think?"

"Five hundred dollars, likely."

"That's worth risking something for," said Jack thoughtfully.

"We'll share alike?" inquired Hogan anxiously.

"Depends on how much you help about gettin' the money," said Jack

Hogan, who was not very courageous, did not dare push the matter
though he would have liked a more definite assurance. However, he
had another motive besides the love of money, and was glad to have
the cooperation of Rafferty, though secretly afraid of his ruffianly

It was agreed to wait till midnight. Till then both men threw
themselves down and slept.

As the clock indicated midnight, Rafferty shook Hogan roughly.

The latter sat up and gazed, in terrified bewilderment, at Jack, who
was leaning over him, forgetting for the moment the compact into
which he had entered.

"What do you want?" he ejaculated.

"It's time we were about our business," growled Jack.

"It's struck twelve."

"All right!" responded Hogan, who began to feel nervous, now that the
crisis was at hand.

"Don't sit rubbing your eyes, man, but get up."

"Haven't you got a drop of something to brace me up?" asked Hogan

"What are you scared of, pard?" asked Rafferty contemptuously.

"Nothing," answered Hogan, "but I feel dry."

"All right. A drop of something will warm us both up."

Jack went behind the counter, and, selecting a bottle of rot-gut
whisky, poured out a stiff glassful apiece.

"Drink it, pard," he said.

Hogan did so, nothing loath.

"That's the right sort," he said, smacking his lips. "It's warming
to the stomach."

So it was and a frequent indulgence in the vile liquid would probably
have burned his stomach and unfitted it for service. But the
momentary effect was stimulating, and inspired Hogan with a kind of
Dutch courage, which raised him in the opinion of his burly

"Push ahead, pard," said he. "I'm on hand."

"That's the way to talk," said Rafferty approvingly. "If we're
lucky, we'll be richer before morning."

Through the dark streets, unlighted and murky, the two confederates
made their stealthy way, and in five minutes stood in front of Joe's



Everything looked favorable for their plans. Of course, the
restaurant was perfectly dark, and the street was quite deserted.

"How shall we get in?" asked Hogan of his more experienced accomplice.

"No trouble--through the winder."

Rafferty had served an apprenticeship at the burglar's trade, and was
not long in opening the front window. He had no light and could not
see that Joe had a companion. If he had discovered this, he would
have been more cautious.

"Go in and get the money," said he to Hogan.

He thought it possible that Hogan might object, but the latter had a
reason for consenting. He thought he might obtain for himself the
lion's share of the plunder, while, as to risk, there would be no one
but Joe to cope with, and Hogan knew that in physical strength he
must be more than a match for a boy of sixteen.

"All right!" said Hogan. "You stay at the window and give the alarm
if we are seen."

Rafferty was prompted by a suspicion of Hogan's good faith in the
proposal he made to him. His ready compliance lulled this suspicion,
and led him to reflect that, perhaps, he could do the work better

"No," said he. "I'll go in and you keep watch at the winder."

"I'm willing to go in," said Hogan, fearing that he would not get his
fair share of the plunder.

"You stay where you are, pard!" said Rafferty, in a tone of command.
"I'll manage this thing myself."

"Just as you say," said Hogan, slightly disappointed.

Rafferty clambered into the room, making as little noise as possible.
He stood still a moment, to accustom his eyes to the darkness. His
plan was to discover where Joe lay, wake him up, and force him, by
threats of instant death as the penalty for non-compliance, to
deliver up all the money he had in the restaurant.

Now, it happened that Joe and his guest slept in opposite corners of
the room. Rafferty discovered Joe, but was entirely ignorant of the
presence of another person in the apartment.

Joe waked on being rudely shaken.

"Who is it?" he muttered drowsily.

"Never mind who it is!" growled Jack in his ear. "It's a man that'll
kill you if you don't give up all the money you've got about you!"

Joe was fully awake now, and realized the situation. He felt
thankful that he was not alone, and it instantly flashed upon him
that Watson had a revolver. But Watson was asleep. To obtain time
to form a plan, he parleyed a little.

"You want my money?" he asked, appearing to be confused.

"Yes--and at once! Refuse, and I will kill you!"

I won't pretend to deny that Joe's heart beat a little quicker than
its wont. He was thinking busily. How could he attract Watson's

"It's pretty hard, but I suppose I must," he answered.

"That's the way to talk."

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