Joes Luck | Page 8

seen a fine hotel, and this structure, being
four stories in height above the offices, seemed to him rather imposing
than otherwise.

He walked up to the desk, on which was spread out, wide open, the
hotel register. Rather a dissipated-looking clerk stood behind the
counter, picking his teeth.
"Good morning, sir," said Joe politely. "What do you charge to stay
here?"
"A dollar a day," answered the clerk.
"Can you give me a room?"
"I guess so, my son. Where is your trunk?"
"I haven't got any."
"Haven't you got any baggage?"
"Here it is."
The clerk looked rather superciliously at the small bundle.
"Then you'll have to pay in advance."
"All right," said Joe. "I'll pay a day in advance."
A freckle-faced boy was summoned, provided with the key of No. 161,
and Joe was directed to follow him.
"Shall I take your bundle?" he asked.
"No, thank you. I can carry it myself."
They went up-stairs, until Joe wondered when they were going to stop.
Finally the boy paused at the top floor, for the very good reason that he
could get no higher, and opened the door of 161.
"There you are," said the boy. "Is there anything else you want?"
"No, thank you."

"I'm sorry there ain't a bureau to keep your clothes," said the
freckle-faced boy, glancing at Joe's small bundle with a smile.
"It is inconvenient," answered Joe, taking the joke.
"You wouldn't like some hot water for shaving, would you?" asked the
boy, with a grin.
"You can have some put on to heat and I'll order it when my beard is
grown," said Joe good-naturedly.
"All right. I'll tell 'em to be sure and have it ready in two or three
years."
"That will be soon enough. You'd better order some for yourself at the
same time."
"Oh, I get in hot water every day."
The freckle-faced boy disappeared, and Joe sat down on the bed, to
reflect a little on his position and plans.
So here he was in New York, and on the way to California, too--that is,
he hoped so. How much can happen in a little while. Three days before
he had not dreamed of any change in his position.
"I hope I shan't have to go back again to Oakville. I won't go unless I
am obliged to," he determined.
He washed his hands and face, and went down-stairs. He found that
dinner was just ready. It was not a luxurious meal, but, compared with
the major's rather frugal table, there was great variety and luxury. Joe
did justice to it.
"Folks live better in the city than they do in the country," he thought;
"but, then, they have to pay for it. A dollar a day! Why, that would
make three hundred and sixty-five dollars a year!"
This to Joe seemed a very extravagant sum to spend on one person's

board and lodging.
"Now," thought Joe, after dinner was over, "the first thing for me to
find out is when the California steamer starts and what is the lowest
price I can go for."
In the barroom Joe found a file of two of the New York daily papers,
and began to search for the advertisement of the California steamers.
At last he found it.
The steamer was to start in three days. Apply for passage and any
information at the company's offices.
"I'll go right down there, and find out whether I've got money enough
to take me," Joe decided.
CHAPTER VI
JOE BUYS A TICKET
The office of the steamer was on the wharf from which it was to start.
Already a considerable amount of freight was lying on the wharf ready
to be loaded. Joe made his way to the office.
"Well, boy, what's your business?" inquired a stout man with a red face,
who seemed to be in charge.
"Is this the office of the California steamer, sir?"
"Yes."
"What is the lowest price for passage?"
"A hundred dollars for the steerage."
When Joe heard this his heart sank within him. It seemed to be the
death-blow to his hopes. He had but fifty dollars, or thereabouts, and
there was no chance whatever of getting the extra fifty.

"Couldn't I pay you fifty dollars now and the rest as soon as I can earn
it in California?" he pleaded.
"We don't do business in that way."
"I'd be sure to pay it, sir, if I lived," said Joe. "Perhaps you think I am
not honest."
"I don't know whether you are or not," said the agent cavalierly. "We
never do business in that way."
Joe left the office not a little disheartened.
"I wish it had been a hundred dollars Aunt Susan left me," he said to
himself.
Joe's spirits were elastic, however. He remembered