“Well, any time you hear the call CBWC, you’ll know that somebody is trying to get the fellows at home. And it would almost certainly be either Roy or myself. And if you hear the call CBM, you’ll know that somebody wants me. That would most likely be Roy. At any rate, I hope you will be sounding the call CBM before very long. I’ll let you know when I get my outfit set up.”

In a few minutes the purser went back to his office. Mr. Reynolds chatted a while and returned to his steamer. Roy and Willie were alone.

“Roy,” said Willie, his face suddenly sober, “I don’t feel exactly right about this business. I was so happy over getting my job that I didn’t think about you at first. I came here as your guest. Now I’ve accepted a job and engaged to go to work to-morrow. That means I can’t make the trip to Galveston with you. I didn’t think before how that looks. I’ve half a notion to go back and throw up the job. I’m not treating you fair, Roy.”

“You blooming old chump,” cried Roy. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. Of course, I am sorry that you are not going to make the trip with me. But that is only a pleasure deferred. You can go the first time you have a vacation. And besides, having you permanently in New York means a hundred times as much to me as having you on shipboard with me for a few days. Why, now you’ll always be here when I get back from the South. We can have several nights together after each trip. And we can talk to each other for some hours after I leave port or before I reach it on the return. I’ll say it’s bully. So don’t you worry one bit longer about me. We’ll have to-day together, anyway. Then I want you to jump in and make a reputation for yourself. And I know you’re going to do it. You’ve got it in you, and I expect soon to hear that you are having wonderful adventures.”

“Yes, sharpening lead-pencils and filling the boss’s ink-well,” laughed Willie.

Alas for Willie! Life was not to be so placid for him as he fancied.

CHAPTER IX
UNDER A CLOUD

Willie’s troubles began the next morning. Long before the appointed hour, he was on hand at the Custom-house. But he found he was alone. The elevator man was there and a few persons who seemed to be employed about the building were visible, but the office in which Willie was to work was deserted. Willie did not know what to do. He did not like to venture boldly into the offices, nor was he desirous of waiting outside, at the door. So he stepped within the anteroom and sat down on the little settee. Presently one or two men entered the anteroom and brushed past him without paying any attention to him.

After a while a rangy, well-grown boy came up the corridor, whistling noisily. Willie had a good opportunity to observe him as he came down the long passageway. There was a swagger about the lad’s carriage that suggested conceit or at least self-complacency. The boy’s cap was tilted rakishly over one ear. Even before Willie could see his face distinctly, he felt sure the lad before him was a “smarty.” When the boy drew close enough so that his features could be distinguished plainly, Willie was certain that his guess was correct. In fact, he saw at once that the fellow was more than “smart.” He was tough. A leering, ugly expression was plainly marked on his face. Hard lines were already stamped about his mouth and eyes. And Willie knew without ever hearing the boy speak, that his talk would be vulgar and profane. He was the more certain when the lad came blustering into the office, laid his hand on the swinging gate, and pushed it open. The first two fingers of the hand were stained a deep brown, from cigarettes.

The lad pushed through the gate, which he allowed to slam shut with a bang. He glanced into all the rooms of the suite, probably trying to discover if he was on hand before the boss. He saw no one but a few minor clerks who had come in while Willie was waiting at the door. Then he returned to the little railing, and facing Willie, said in a coarse voice, “Whatcha want?”