Joshua felt immensely wealthy with the proceeds of the robbery, amounting, at the price of bonds, to over six hundred dollars. Accustomed to the paltry sum of twenty-five cents a week, never having had in his possession more than a dollar at a time, and seldom that, it is not surprising that he should have regarded six hundred dollars as a small fortune. He knew nothing of the city and its dangers. He had an idea that he should easily get a situation in a week or two, which time he proposed to spend in seeing life.
When he reached New York, he left the depot and went out into the street. He felt bewildered. The change from the quiet streets of Stapleton to the thronged avenues of the great city was very great, and he hardly knew whether he stood on his head or his heels. But he realized, with a thrill of exultation, that he was in the city of which he had so often dreamed. He felt that a new page was to be turned over in his life, and that his future would be much more brilliant than his past.
Joshua knew nobody in the city except Sam Crawford. His first desire was to find out where Sam lived. Sam he was accustomed to regard as a personage of a good deal of importance. But how to find him--that was the question. He knew that Sam was a clerk in a shoe store on Eighth avenue, but where that avenue was he had not the least idea.
While he was standing outside the depot in some perplexity, wondering how far off Sam’s store was, he was accosted by a sharp-looking bootblack, whose hands indicated his profession.
“Shine yer boots, mister?”
Joshua was not reckless in his expenditures, and he inquired, cautiously, “How much do you ask?”
“Twenty-five cents,” said the bootblack.
“Twenty-five cents!” exclaimed Joshua, aghast, reflecting that the sum asked represented what hitherto had been his entire weekly allowance.
“Well,” said the bootblack, “seein’ you’re from the country, I’ll call it twenty cents.”
“What makes you think I’m from the country?” asked Joshua, quite unconscious of his rustic air.