“But, June, if we don’t stay in Harrisville what will you do? You shouldn’t have thrown up your job.”
June winked solemnly. “I done made a ’greement with that nigger, Mas’ Wayne. If I comes back he’s goin’ to get out, yes, sir, an’ I gets my job back.”
“Oh! But supposing he changes his mind by that time?”
“Then,” answered the other solemnly, “I’se goin’ to change his face.”
Just before it got too dark to see, the train began to run parallel with a broad river, and after that, at intervals, the big stream flashed into sight. The baggage-man was amiable and talkative and told them much about the country they were passing through and the city they were approaching, giving them directions for finding a cheap but satisfactory hotel near the station. As Harrisville contained about fifty thousand population the boys naturally expected to find a big place, but when, having alighted from the baggage-car by the simple expedient of jumping to a truck outside the wide door, and made their way through the crowded station to an equally crowded street, the city proved to be larger and far more confusing than their anticipation. Fortunately, though, the Bemis House was in plain sight across the way and they had soon secured a room. The Bemis House drew no colour line, nor did it object to a small dog if he was sort of smuggled upstairs and kept quiet, and so the three companions were speedily housed together in a small and shabby but comfortable enough bedroom.
They didn’t stay in it long, however, for the city lights were calling them. They had some supper at a little restaurant near by and then, with Sam pulling ahead at the end of his improvised leash, they set forth on exploration bent. That was a most exciting evening, for they had traversed no more than a half-dozen squares when the lights and gaudy pictures of a moving-picture theatre brought them to a stop. June announced his intentions inside of two seconds, and Wayne, after discovering that a dime would purchase admittance, made no objections. For the subsequent hour and a half they were as happy as two boys could be, and when the “Good Night! Come Again” was flashed on the screen and the audience poured out June was all for seeing the show over again and had to be literally dragged away, Wayne assuring him that they could come again tomorrow evening. They saw some of the town then, but nothing short of a three-alarm fire would have snared their attention after the things they had witnessed on the screen, and so, being tired and sleepy, they went back to the little hotel and crawled into the beds.
Wayne’s letter of introduction to Mr. Stephen Milburn bore the address of the Congress House, and inquiry elicited the information that the Congress House was far uptown and many blocks away from their lodgings. For fear that the club manager might get away before he could reach him, Wayne ate a hurried and sketchy breakfast at seven, entrusted Sam to June’s care, and hurried off on foot at about the time the retail section of the city through which his route lay was beginning to wake up. The distance was long and Wayne was horribly afraid that Mr. Milburn would have had his breakfast and be off and about the business of managing before he got to the hotel. Consequently, he was somewhat surprised when, on inquiring for the manager, he was told that Mr. Milburn never saw anyone until after breakfast.
“After breakfast!” repeated Wayne blankly. “Well, what time is that, please?”
The clerk at the desk looked speculatingly at the clock and yawned behind his hand. “He usually comes down about nine,” was the reply. “Come back at half-past and you’ll probably find him.”