"Seventy-five cents!" he said to himself. "That's what I call luck. I don't believe Tim's done so well. It aint so hard to make your living in New York, after all. I guess I'll go and get some breakfast."
CHAPTER XIX. — HOW SAM FARED.
On the strength of his good luck, Sam provided himself with a good breakfast, which cost him forty cents. He felt pretty sure of earning something more during the day to add to the remaining thirty-five. But Fortune is capricious, and our hero found all his offers of service firmly refused. He tried again to excite compassion by his fictitious story of a starving family at home; but his appeals were made to the flinty-hearted or the incredulous. So, about two o'clock, he went to dinner, and spent the remainder of his money.
Again he spent the night with Tim in the wagon, and again in the morning he set out to earn his breakfast. But luck was against him. People insisted on carrying their own carpet-bags, to the great detriment of the baggage-smashing business. Tim was no luckier than Sam. About ten o'clock they were walking despondently through a side street, discussing ways and means.
"I'm awful hungry, Tim," said Sam, mournfully.
"So am I, you bet!"
"I wouldn't mind if I had a couple of apples," said Sam, fixing his eyes upon an old woman's apple-stand. "Wouldn't she trust?"
"Not much," said Tim. "You try her, if you want to."