“Hope they help you,” said the newsy. “Wish I knowed what your game is anyway. Me for Sheeny Ike’s now. I kin get a new coat and my supper and a night’s lodgin’ out o’ this dollar. So long.”
Willie smiled good-bye. When the newsy turned away, he darted around the corner and bolted into the first vacant hallway he came to.
The lad that emerged from that hallway a moment later bore little resemblance to the boy who had entered it. The ragged old coat that Willie had obtained was many sizes too large for him, even as it had been for the newsy, and it effectually concealed Willie’s own coat. His neat, well-creased trousers looked strangely at variance with the coat, but Willie remedied that in a moment. Some ash cans stood by the curb. It took very little of the ashes to spoil the good appearance of both his trousers and his shoes. It came hard to Willie to soil his clothes this way, even though he knew the dust would brush out; for these were the best clothes he owned. A few smears of dirt on his face, and the old, torn cap completed the change so effectively that Willie would hardly have known himself could he have looked in a mirror. As for selling papers, that was nothing new at all for Willie. He had sold papers for years at home, when he was a bit younger.
Satisfied that his appearance was right for the business in hand, Willie promptly entered the house. It proved to be just what Willie suspected—a saloon; though it was run under the guise of a coffee-house. Willie was satisfied of that the moment he entered the door.
Before him he saw many small, round tables, with men seated about them. At a larger table in one corner were the bargemen. And Willie’s heart went pitapat when one of them looked at him and scowled savagely. But Willie felt reassured when the man began to quarrel with one of his fellows. The scowl was evidently not meant for Willie. Nowhere could Willie discover Sheridan. He was not able to see every one in the place, however, for some partitions extended out a little way from the street wall where a partition wall had evidently been partly removed to enlarge the dining-room. He must get a look at the space shut off by these partitions.
Quietly Willie began to move about among the tables, offering his papers for sale. All went well until a waiter, coming from the kitchen with a tray of food, espied him.
“Get out of here,” he thundered. But, having his hands full, he could not chase the newsy out.
“Can’t a fellow get a bite to eat here?” demanded Willie.
The waiter gave him a surly look. “Be quick about it,” he said. “This ain’t a kindergarten.”
Willie walked rapidly past the jutting partitions, apparently looking for a vacant table. Every table was in use. But just behind one of the partitions was a table at which only one diner was seated. Willie hardly wanted to sit down at the same table, for the man was obviously drunk. He was slouched down in his chair, and his cap had slid far down over his face. Before him were some steaming platters of food. But when Willie stepped a little closer his reluctance suddenly disappeared. He recognized the battered old clothes the drunken man was wearing. It was the same suit of clothes Willie had seen on the tramp that crawled out of the box pile on the pier. Willie comprehended the situation in a second. The bargemen were at the table immediately on one side of the partition, and the tramp at the table on the other side. He had picked out a spot where he could hear the bargemen, but could not be seen by them.