llow kitchen chairs. Hiram took a seat by a window overlooking
Kearny Street.

He could not plan, he found, for his ideas of seeking employment were
of the vaguest; he did not know where to look for it, nor what duties
he should state that he could perform. Dreaming of it up there in
Mendocino County, climbing up in the world from the bottom rung had
seemed so easy.

He began feeling a little lonesome. He had resolved to brave the
fascinating eyes of the girl of the restaurant again, and perhaps speak
to her if occasion offered, when the door opened and three men came
into the lounging room.

Two of them scraped chairs to the table and from a drawer took a dirty
pack of cards and a homemade cribbage board, with headless matches for
markers. The third took from his pocket a folded newspaper and sat
down at the window opposite Hiram. He at once began reading, and
seemed not to be a companion of the other two. Hiram took note that he
perused the want-ad sheets.

Hiram studied the two at cards. He resolved that he did not like their
unkempt looks, so turned his attention to the man with the paper.

In dress this man was in a class with the other two, though perhaps a
little better groomed. But a careful observer would have taken note of
certain finer characteristics in the face. It was the face of a man in
the thirties, robust and good-natured, with bushy brows, slate-blue
eyes, and a nose that would have been termed Grecian if it had not been
for a semiconical twist to the left. He was of stalky build, carefully
shaved that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes,
though scuffed with wear, were polished.

In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper and
leveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?" in
a disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caught
unawares. He felt the question and had answered it, to cover his
embarrassment, before he knew the words were coming.

"D'ye find any jobs in the paper?"

The two at cards looked quickly at Hiram and shrugged, and the game
went on in silence, as before.

"What d'ye follow?" asked the man with the twisted nose in a sort of
rollicking voice by no means unpleasant.

"D'ye mean what c'n I do?"

The man with the paper nodded.

Hiram scraped his chair a foot closer. "Why, I don't exactly know.
I'm willin' to do anything--that is, try."

The slate-blue eyes quizzically studied Hiram a l