"You've got to look all ways to once here," said Tom.
"I guess you're right. Don't people often get run over?"
"Once in a while. There's a friend of mine—Patsy Burke—a newsboy, was run over last year and had his leg broke. They took him to Bellevue Hospital, and cut it off."
"Is he alive now?"
"Oh, yes, he's alive and to work, the same as ever. He's got a wooden leg."
"Poor boy!" said Ben compassionately.
"Oh, he don't mind it, Patsy don't. He's always jolly."
By this time they reached the office of the California Steamship Company. There was a large sign up, so that there was no difficulty in finding it.
The two boys entered. The room was not a large one. There was a counter, behind which were two young men writing, and there was besides a man of middle age, who was talking to two gentlemen who appeared to be engaging passage. Seated in a chair, apparently awaiting her turn, was a young lady, whose face was half-concealed by a thick, green veil.
When the two gentlemen were disposed of, the agent spoke to the young lady.