Swiftly the ferryboat crossed the North River, crowded with boats. Then it ran into the slip—there was the rattle of the ratchets as the line wheels spun around, and finally the gates were opened.
Richard had reached New York at last.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE "WATCH BELOW."
"Gracious, what a busy place!"
This was the thought that ran through Richard's mind as he stepped from the ferryhouse to West Street, in New York City.
Doc Linyard had managed to get the boy off the boat as soon as the landing was made, but now, as they waited for a chance to cross the slippery thoroughfare that runs parallel to the water's edge, the crowd surged around them until to Richard there seemed to be a perfect jam.
"Hack, sir? Astor House? Coupe, madam? This way for a cab!"
In a moment they were safe upon the other side of the street.
"Made up your mind which way to steer?" asked Doc Linyard.