The party walked outside and hailed a taxi, the driver of which agreed to take them to a comfortable hotel near the waterfront.
“An outside room,” observed Bob, as he glanced at his ticket and followed the others to an elevator.
Their sleeping quarters were on the seventeenth floor, where a wonderful view of lower Manhattan and the waterfront could be had.
“Fairly high, but could be a lot higher,” observed Joe, as he gazed out at the scores of other tall buildings that were grouped about them.
“The trend is upward,” remarked Mr. Lewis. “Imagine how old New York will look fifty years from now, when there may be buildings two hundred stories high!”
“Suppose we go down and see how things look from the street,” suggested Mr. Holton. “Been a long time since we’ve been here.”
The remainder of that day was spent exploring Manhattan Island. They turned in early in the evening, for they were very tired.
“Tomorrow,” said Bob, as he threw himself on the bed, “we’ll see sights for sore eyes.”
And they did. The scene at the dock was one of absorbing interest to all, even as much as the men had witnessed it. Ships from all countries were anchored in dense rows, their crewmen busy loading and unloading cargoes. Boxes and bales were being piled in great stacks, awaiting transfer by motor truck. Passengers and spectators crowded closely around the sections where passenger liners were anchored.