Nat pushed the door open and he and Benny walked in. He did not like the appearance of the room in which he found himself, but then he supposed that all hotels in the city looked like that. There was a bar in one corner of it, behind which stood a man that reminded him of Jonas Keeler as far as his appearance was concerned. On the other side of the room were tables in front of which were men playing cards, and others with men sprawling out upon them with their heads pillowed upon their arms as if fast asleep. He thought of backing out and trying it again at another place; but the man behind the bar discovered him and came out.
“Ah! Here you are. You want a supper and some lodging, I suppose? Are you traveling far? Hello? Where did you get that dog? Will he bite?”
“He has been with me a long time, and I never saw him bite anybody yet. He always sleeps with me and he won’t let any one harm me. I want a bed but I don’t want any supper.”
“Heavens and earth! What’s in your grip?” said the man lifting one from the floor where Nat had placed it.
“They are tools I work with; hammers and the like.”
“Oh. You are a machinist, are you? Well, come along and I will show you to your room. I hope that dog won’t nail me until I get down.”
The man stepped behind the bar to obtain a key to Nat’s room, and carrying the carpet-sack in one hand while Nat followed with the other, they went through the room and up the stairs to Nat’s apartment.
“There, sir, you can lock yourself in and be safe until morning. Good-night.”
Nat was too tired to look around his room and see what sort of a place it was. He turned down the quilts with the remark that the sheets might have been cleaner, pulled off his clothes, and tumbled into bed; and he had hardly struck the pillow before he was sound asleep.