“Thank you,” said Tom. “There’s a gentleman,” pointing to Mr. Stoddard, “who may wish to engage you.”
Tom trudged ahead in the direction indicated.
“If that’s a specimen of California prices,” he said to himself, “my sixty dollars won’t last long. I wonder what I shall have to pay at the hotel.”
His guide’s directions were easy to follow. Tom halted in front of a two-story building of rather primitive appearance, which, however, had the look of a hotel.
“Is this a hotel?” he asked of a negro at the door.
“Yes,” was the reply. “Have you come by the steamer, sar?”
“Yes,” said Tom. “Where is the office?”
“Go in and you’ll see.”
Tom entered and walked up to a desk which he saw at one corner of the apartment. A man was seated astride on it, picking his teeth with a knife.
“I should like to have a room,” said Tom.