“Well,” thought Tom, sitting down on the bed when the clerk had left him, “things begin to look serious. I’ve got money enough to pay a week’s board, and that’s all. I must get work within that time, or there’s a fine prospect of starvation.”
CHAPTER XXIII
MIKE’S GOOD LUCK.
AFTER supper, which hardly corresponded with the price he was paying, Tom went out to look at the town. Five years had elapsed since the first discovery of gold, and society was yet in an unsettled condition. Houses of all descriptions, some very primitive, were scattered about. It was easy to see, even at that time, that some time a well-built city would take the place of this irregular settlement.
Everything indicated progress, everything spoke of enterprise and energy. Notwithstanding his scanty supply of money, and the certainty that it would soon be exhausted, Tom felt his spirits rise. If charges were great, it was probable that wages would also be large, and he felt sure that he could earn his share.
On his way home, in front of a small shanty, he recognized his steerage friend, Mike, sitting on a three-legged stool, smoking a clay pipe.
“How are you, Mike?” he said, pleased to find one he knew.
“Is it you, Mister Tom?” responded Mike, his face lighting up with equal pleasure. “Shure it does me good to see you again.”
“And I am glad to see you, Mike. Is this where you are putting up?”