"You stay with my foreman tonight," the captain said briskly.
"Emmons!" to some one inside. "This lad will eat and sleep with you.
I want you to take good care of him."
Emmons, without appearing, grunted a distant assent. Ralph ventured a
protest.
"I can find a lodging, captain," he began.
"Hut tut! You're too green yet to be left alone all night in this
town. Not a word. You stay with Emmons. In the morning I will let
you know of a plan I am considering. It may be good for you."
Captain Shard gathered up his reins, nodded carelessly, and went off
down the street in a small cloud of dust.
Ralph went into the stable, not seeing clearly how to refuse, though
hardly at ease in his mind. As he stood in the doorway, looking along
a double line of vehicles of all sorts backed against the wall, a
hoarse voice bade him come into the office.
"Rather a small hole, but large enough for two," remarked Emmons from a
high stool as Ralph entered a box of a place, about eight by ten, with
a desk, a chair, stool, and a few lap robes in a corner as the
furnishings thereof.
Emmons was a squat, thick set personage, with most of his face hidden
behind a tremendous beard. He cast a careless glance at the boy, then
shutting a ledger said:
"Let's go to supper."
He seized an old palmetto hat, and leaving the stables, dived down a
side street, and into a cheap restaurant near by.
Ralph followed. They seated themselves at one of a row of pine tables,
covered with oilcloth, and well sprinkled with crumbs and flies.
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