“But I say yes!” shrieked Guy; “and with it I have lost every cent I had in the world. Oh! what shall I do?”
“It can’t be possible,” said Bob, feeling of his friend’s pockets. “Look again.”
“Oh, haven’t I looked everywhere already?” demanded Guy, the tears starting to his eyes as he begun another thorough examination of his clothing. “It’s lost, I tell you.”
“Perhaps you left it in your valise. Let’s go and look.”
“No, I didn’t. I put it in my pocket yesterday, and I didn’t once take it out. Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
The clerk laid down his pen, leaned his elbows on the desk before him, and waited to see what Guy was going to do about it, and the latter, having satisfied himself that the money was not to be found about his person, allowed Bob to lead him off to his state-room. With frantic haste he overhauled the bundle and tumbled the contents of his valise upon the floor, but no purse rewarded his search. Then he looked under his pillow, and into every corner in the room, but with no better success.
“It’s no use; it’s gone,” screamed Guy, throwing himself upon Bob’s bunk and giving away to a torrent of tears, “and here I am without a copper in my pocket, and no friend to help me! I can’t go back home, and I don’t know what to do. I wish I was dead. Have you got any money, Bob?”
“Not a dollar; not even half a dollar. I had just enough to pay my fare, and expected to look to you for a few dimes. We’re in a fix, that’s certain. When we reach Chicago we shall be strapped as flat as pancakes, and in a strange city, too. I’ll go and speak to the skipper. Perhaps he can do something for you.”
Bob easily found the captain, who listened patiently while he stated his friend’s case, and accompanied him to the presence of Guy, to whom he propounded a few inquiries: Had he any idea where he lost his money? Might he not have dropped it or had his pocket picked before he came on board the propeller. Had he seen any stranger in his room the night before? and had he any relatives or friends in Chicago? To all these questions Guy replied in the negative. The captain looked thoughtfully at the floor for a moment, said it was a hard case, but he didn’t see that he could do anything, and turning on his heel he left the room, while Bob seated himself on the edge of his bunk, and looked at his friend with a very sympathizing expression on his countenance.
A dozen times that afternoon Guy searched all his pockets, examined the contents of his valise and bundle, and peeped into every part of the state-room, hoping that in his hurry and excitement he had overlooked the purse, and that it would yet come to light; but he as often abandoned the search in utter despair, and threw himself upon the bunk to indulge in a fresh burst of tears. Bob lent willing assistance, and tried to utter words of consolation, but these did not help Guy. He did not want sympathy, but money.