f you don't mind."

"Sure not--come on."

Hiram rose quickly and followed him out. Even though he were to
distrust this man, in the end, the thought of losing him now was
appalling.

Down on the street he thought of breakfast and paused before the
restaurant.

"Have you had breakfast, Mr. Tweet?" he asked.

Tweet stopped and looked at him soberly. "Are you invitin' me to
dine?" he said quizzically.

"Well, kinda that way," admitted Hiram with a foolish grin. "I haven't
eaten myself, and----"

"I haven't eaten myself either, nor anybody else since yesterday
mornin'. I accept."

And promptly Mr. Tweet pushed ahead through the swinging doors.

CHAPTER V

A RIVAL

The restaurant was all but deserted at the late breakfast hour when
Hiram Hooker and Mr. Tweet entered. Hiram timidly wished that the
men's side were filled, so that he would be obliged to eat on the
ladies' side again. A waiter was beckoning them to the men's side,
however, and Hiram meekly led the way, though casting a quick,
expectant glance down the long row of tables beyond the screen.

Waitresses were dallying about, but he did not see the girl with the
cords of fluffy hair. He was halfway through breakfast before it
occurred to him that, as she was at work at eleven the night before, he
scarce could expect her at nine in the morning. He was glad she was
not there to tantalize him, and at the same time deeply disappointed.

Hiram's new acquaintance changed perceptibly as the food began to warm
him. Mildly loquacious before, he now became voluble.

"I wanta tell you this," he remarked finally, "you're in luck to strike
me when I'm crippled for cash. A week from now, perhaps, you'd never
met me at all. And if you had, there'd 'a' been nothin' to connect us.
But right now I'm up against it and forced to sleep in a
twenty-five-cent lodgin' house. Therefore we met and found out each of
us had somethin' the other wanted. You're lucky, Hooker--that's all
there is to it. You'd 'a' drifted about for years and never got the
chance to hook up with Twitter-or-Tweet. And here you are, right from
the backwoods, makin' yourself solid the first crack outa the box with
the original money-getter. Stay by me till I get a toehold, and I'll
make you."

Hiram was at a loss how to take him. He had not agreed to tide him
over, had not even made up his mind that Tweet was not a rank faker;
yet Tweet seemed to be taking it for granted that