"Perhaps there is more money to be made where you made your money to-day."
"I think not. At any rate, I don't care to earn any more the same way."
The same evening Oliver strayed into aprominent hotel on Broadway. He was alone, his room-mate having retired early on account of fatigue. In the smoking-room he saw, sitting by himself, a tall, bronzed, rather roughly dressed man, evidently not a dweller in cities, but having all the outward marks of a frontiersman. Something in Oliver attracted this man's attention, and led him to address our hero.
"Young man," he said, "do you live in New York?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, perhaps you can recommend me to a quiet house where I can obtain a lodging. I aint used to fine hotels; they don't suit me."
"I can recommend the house where I am living," said Oliver. "It is quiet and comfortable, but not stylish."
"Style aint for me," said the stranger. "If it's where you live, I'll like it better. I like your looks and would like to get acquainted with you."
"Then," said Oliver, "I'll call here to-morrow morning and accompany you to thehouse. It would be too late to-night to make a change."
"That will do," said the stranger. "I will be here at nine o'clock. If you don't see me enquire for Nicholas Bundy."