At six o'clock Paul received a ticket for two more francs. To get it cashed, he purchased a glass of wine for two sous and then started on a run for his lodgings where he fully expected to find the Count dead. He ran the blockade of the landlady's door without the formality of taking off his shoes. Dashing into the room he exclaimed:
"Count! Count, where are you?"
"Here I am," exclaimed a faint voice from the bed.
"Well, I'm glad you are not dead, we dine at the widow's to-day. Look at this."
The Count started up and gazed on the seventy-three cents Paul exhibited with eager eyes, then looking reproachfully at him he said:
"Paul, I hope you have not taken to the highway." "No," said Paul, "I worked for that and hard too, so come on and we will have such a dinner as we have not had in two weeks."
Under the genial influence of the banquet, the Count confessed to Paul that he had retired to bed in the hope of dying quietly of starvation, providing the landlady had not disturbed him as he felt convinced that Paul had abandoned him. That night the landlady received one week's room rent and graciously gave them three days more to settle up in full. Paul was out again before daylight and sought out the contractor. This day he got a job on the ship Fanita of San Francisco, discharging grain. It was much cleaner and easier than scraping the steamer's bottom. His job was to guide the sacks of grain out of the hold while a horse on the dock attached to a long line passed over a block hoisted them up. While at this work the two mates of the ship stood near the hatchway and commenced making remarks about Paul whom they thought was a Frenchman.
"There is one of those French soldiers," said one.
"Yes," added the other; "he looks pretty hungry and thin; it is no wonder the Dutch licked them."
Paul smiled, but said nothing until a better opportunity presented itself, when he entered into conversation with the mate, who was much surprised to find that he was an American. At dinner time he was invited into the galley and regaled with a sea-pie until he was scarcely able to hail "Allons" to the driver of the horse on the dock, when he resumed work in the afternoon. That evening he was engaged by the captain of the vessel to keep tally on the sacks at five francs per diem. A few days later an order was issued from the Hotel de Ville that all foreign volunteers should assemble there. A hundred and twelve responded to the call and a motley group mustered from all quarters of the globe, representing every branch of the French service and wearing every conceivable kind of a uniform. Notwithstanding the fact that some of them were from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Ireland, Belgium, etc., they all wanted to be sent to America. The mayor informed them that arrangements had been made to transport them there at the expense of the French Government. He also said that he was authorized to give each volunteer the sum of twenty-five francs, a mattress, blanket and a supply of tin-ware. This joyful news was received with loud cries of "Vive la France! Vive la Republique!" and three hearty cheers were given for the mayor. As the volunteers joyously dispersed, an officer informed Paul that the mayor wished to see him in his private office. When he entered, His Honor informed him that he desired him to take charge of the men on their passage over.