put to bed somehow. There
are"--counting--"one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,
ten, eleven, twelve men. Nine cents more will put the next man to bed;
give him a good, comfortable bed for the night. I go right along and
look after that myself. Who will give me nine cents?"

One of the watchers, this time a middle-aged man, handed him a five-cent
piece.

"Now, I have eight cents. Four more will give this man a bed. Come,
gentlemen. We are going very slow this evening. You all have good beds.
How about these?"

"Here you are," remarked a bystander, putting a coin into his hand.

"That," said the captain, looking at the coin, "pays for two beds for
two men and gives me five on the next one. Who will give me seven cents
more?"

"I will," said a voice.

Coming down Sixth Avenue this evening, Hurstwood chanced to cross
east through Twenty-sixth Street toward Third Avenue. He was wholly
disconsolate in spirit, hungry to what he deemed an almost mortal
extent, weary, and defeated. How should he get at Carrie now? It would
be eleven before the show was over. If she came in a coach, she would go
away in one. He would need to interrupt under most trying circumstances.
Worst of all, he was hungry and weary, and at best a whole day must
intervene, for he had not heart to try again to-night. He had no food
and no bed.

When he neared Broadway, he noticed the captain's gathering of
wanderers, but thinking it to be the result of a street preacher or some
patent medicine fakir, was about to pass on. However, in crossing the
street toward Madison Square Park, he noticed the line of men whose beds
were already secured, stretching out from the main body of the crowd. In
the glare of the neighbouring electric light he recognised a type of
his own kind--the figures whom he saw about the streets and in the
lodging-houses, drifting in mind and body like himself. He wondered what
it could be and turned back.

There was the captain curtly pleading as before. He heard with
astonishment and a sense of relief the oft-repeated words: "These men
must have a bed." Before him was the line of unfortunates whose beds
were yet to be had, and seeing a newcomer quietly edge up and take a
position at the end of the line, he decided to do likewise. What use
to contend? He was weary to-night. It was a simple way out of one
difficulty, at least. To-morrow, maybe, he would do better.

Back of him, where some of those were whose beds