“Now you keep right behind me, an’ you come quick,” said Ben, as he looked carefully around to assure himself that there was no one in sight.
Paul followed the directions, wondering why one was obliged to use such precautions in getting into his own house, and Ben led the way, not into the building, but over the fence and down into the yard, where was stored empty boxes and barrels of every description.
As if he was perfectly familiar with the way, Ben went among the boxes to the farther end of the yard, where there was a hogshead and a large packing-case close together. He pulled the case a few inches aside—for it had been placed directly in front of the hogshead—and whispered,
“Get in, quick!”
Paul obeyed, hardly believing that this could be the real estate his companions had spoken of, and Ben followed him, pulling the box against the hogshead again so adroitly as to betoken considerable practice.
When one of the candles was lighted, and stuck into an empty ink-bottle that served as candlestick, Paul was able to see the interior, and he stared at it in surprise.
The case was evidently used as a place in which to keep their food, and as a sort of general storehouse, for an old coat was lying neatly folded up in one corner, and opposite it were several tin cans, all showing more or less marks of age, and in a battered condition.
The hogshead had been lined with old newspapers, and from the fact that quite a quantity of straw covered the bottom, it was easy to see that this was the sleeping-room.
“There!” said Ben, triumphantly, “you can stay here an’ live off the fat of the land jest as long as you want to.”
And Paul never realized that, if he had tried, he could not have hidden himself more completely from those who might be searching for him, than by thus sharing the fortunes of these two Arabs of the street.