n all his life?"

"Of course not. A year hence he may be a capitalist, or a lawyer
again. Meanwhile he is saving money."

"He is a sensible man, after all; but, you see, Carter, it takes time
to adjust my ideas to things here. The first surprise was your rough
appearance."

"There is one advantage my rough life has brought me," said Carter.
"It has improved my health. I was given to dyspepsia when I lived in
New York. Now I really believe I could digest a tenpenny nail,
or--an eating-house mince pie, which is more difficult."

"You have steep hills in San Francisco."

"Yes, it is something of a climb to the top of Clay Street Hill.
When you get to the top you get a fine view, though."

Now the hill may be ascended in cars drawn up the steeply graded
sides by an endless rope running just below the surface. No such
arrangement had been thought of then. Folsom gave out when he had
completed half the ascent.

"I'll be satisfied with the prospect from here," he said.

Meanwhile Joe kept steadily at his task.

"It will take me three hours and a half, possibly four," he said to
himself, after a survey of the pile. "I wonder what pay I shall
receive."

While thus employed many persons passed him.

One among them paused and accosted him.

"So you have found work already?" he said.

Looking up, Joe recognized Harry Hogan, the man who had swindled him.
He didn't feel inclined to be very social with this man.

"Yes," said he coldly.

"Rather strange work for a first-class passenger."

He envied Joe because he had traveled first-class, while he had
thought himself fortunate, with the help his dishonesty gave him, in
being able to come by steerage.

"It is very suitable employment for a boy who has no money," said Joe.

"How much are you going to be paid for the job?" asked Hogan, with
sudden interest, for ten dollars constituted his only remaining funds.

If his theft on shipboard had not been detected he would have been
better provided.

"I don't know," said Joe shortly.

"You didn't make any bargain, then?"

"No."

"What are you going to do next?" inquired Hogan.

"I don't know," said Joe.

Hogan finally moved off.

"I hate that boy," he soliloquized. "He puts on airs for a country
boy. So he's getting too proud to talk to me, is he? We'll see, Mr.
Joseph Mason."

Joe kept on till his task was completed, put on his coat and went
into the restaurant.

It was the supper-hour.

"I'v