CHAPTER XII
JOE FINDS A JOB
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?"
"Yes."
"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 appearance."
"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 receive."
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?"
"No."
"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 truth.
"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."
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 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 amazement.
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 earnest.
"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."
CHAPTER XVI
JOE'S NEW FRIEND
"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 me."
"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 drayman?"
"Is he a foreigner?" asked Joe. "I don't understand what he is saying."
"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 considerably."
They were walking on Kearny Street, near California Street, when Joe's attention was drawn, to a sign:
THIS RESTAURANT FOR SALE
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 change."
"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.