th any of the roughs and rowdies thick upon the street.
Unfortunately, this idea, like that of asking them for a cash loan, had
come too late; and they were out of sight ere he could take any steps
towards its execution. A glance into the gambling-saloon would have
brought both opportunities back again; and, instead of continuing to
wander hungry through the streets, he would have had a splendid supper,
and after it a bed, either in some respectable hostelry, or his old bunk
aboard the _Crusader_.

It was not to be. While passing the "El Dorado," he could know nothing
of the friends that were so near; and thus unconscious, he leaves the
glittering saloon behind, and a half-score others lighted with like
brilliancy.

For a while longer he saunters slowly about, in the hope of yet
encountering the officers. Several times he sees men in uniform, and
makes after them, only to find they are not English.

At length giving it up, he quickens his pace, and strikes for the office
of Silvestre, which he knows to be in the street fronting the water.

As San Francisco is not like an old seaport, where house-room is cheap
and abundant, but every foot of roof-shelter utilised by day as by
night, there is a chance the office may still be open. In all
probability, the shipping-agent sleeps by the side of his ledger; or, if
not, likely enough one of his clerks. In which case he, Harry Blew, may
be allowed to lie along the floor, or get a shake-down in some adjoining
shed. He would be but too glad to stretch himself on an old sack, a
naked bench, or, for that matter, sit upright in a chair. For he is now
fairly fagged out perambulating the unpaved streets of that inhospitable
town.

Tacking from corner to corner, now and then hitching up his trousers, to
give freer play to his feet, he at length comes out upon the street
which fronts upon the bay. In his week's cruising about the town he has
acquired some knowledge of its topography, and knows well enough where
he is; but not the office of the shipping-agent. It, therefore, takes
him a considerable time to find it. Along the water's edge the houses
are irregularly placed, and numbered with like irregularity. Besides,
there is scarce any light; the night has become dark, with a sky densely
clouded, and the street-lamps burning whale-oil are dim, and at long
distances apart. It is with difficulty he can make out the figures upon
the doors. However, he is at length success