Joe's Luck; Or, Always Wide Awake by Jr. Horatio Alger (best way to read books .TXT) 📖

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."

CHAPTER XIII JOE'S HOTEL

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 balcony.

A man came out from the office.

"Can I get lodging here?" asked Joe.

"Yes."

"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 front.

"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 country."

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

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

"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.

CHAPTER XIV JOE'S SECOND DAY

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."

CHAPTER XV THE FOILED ASSASSIN

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 not."

"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 couldn't."

"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