"We'll cross over to Sixth Avenue," he said, "so that Martin may not see us on our return."
This suggestion was adopted, luckily, for Martin had posted himself at a favorable place, and was scanning attentively every returning car. But he waited and watched in vain till long after the objects of his pursuit were safe at home and in bed.
CHAPTER XII.
MARTIN'S LUCK TURNS.
Martin continued to watch for an hour or two, sitting in a door-way. At length he was forced to conclude that Rufus had given him the slip, and this tended by no means to sweeten his temper. In fact, his position was not altogether a pleasant one. It was now past midnight, and, having no money, he saw no other way than to spend the night in the street. Besides he was hungry, and that was a complaint which was likely to get worse instead of better. As for Rufus, Martin had never before seen him so well dressed, and it seemed clear that he was prospering.
"He's an ungrateful young rascal," muttered Martin,—"livin' in ease and comfort, while I am left to starve in the street!"
It would have been rather hard to tell what Rufus had to be grateful for, unless for the privilege which he had enjoyed for some time of helping support his step-father; but Martin persuaded himself that he was ungrateful and undutiful, and grew indignant over his fancied wrongs, as he lay back in discomfort on the stone step which he had selected as his resting-place.
The night passed slowly away, and when the morning light came Martin got up very stiff and sore, and more hungry than ever, and began to wonder where he was likely to get any breakfast. Begging seemed to him, on the whole, the easiest way of getting along; but it was too early for that. After a while, however, the street began to be peopled, and he walked up to a gentleman who was approaching, and, assuming a look which he thought indicative of wretchedness, whined out, "Would you be willing to help a poor man, sir?"
The gentleman stopped.