Chapter 45

CURIOUSSHIFTSOFTHEPOOR

ThegloomyHurstwood,sittinginhischeaphotel,wherehehadtakenrefugewithseventydollars—thepriceofhisfurniture-betweenhimandnothing,sawahotsummeroutandacoolfallin,reading.Hewasnotwhollyindifferenttothefactthathismoneywasslippingaway.Asfiftycentsafterfiftycentswerepaidoutforaday’slodginghebecameuneasy,andfinallytookacheaperroom—thirty-fivecentsaday—tomakehismoneylastlonger.FrequentlyhesawnoticesofCarrie.Herpicturewasinthe“World”onceortwice,andanold“Herald”hefoundinachairinformedhimthatshehadrecentlyappearedwithsomeothersatabenefitforsomethingorother.Hereadthesethingswithmingledfeelings.Eachoneseemedtoputherfartherandfartherawayintoarealmwhichbecamemoreimposingasitrecededfromhim.Onthebillboards,too,hesawaprettyposter,showingherastheQuakerMaid,demureanddainty.Morethanoncehestoppedandlookedatthese,gazingattheprettyfaceinasullensortofway.Hisclotheswereshabby,andhepresentedamarkedcontrasttoallthatshenowseemedtobe.

Somehow,solongasheknewshewasattheCasino,thoughhehadneveranyintentionofgoingnearher,therewasasubconsciouscomfortforhim—hewasnotquitealone.Theshowseemedsuchafixturethat,afteramonthortwo,hebegantotakeitforgrantedthatitwasstillrunning.InSeptemberitwentontheroadandhedidnotnoticeit.Whenallbuttwentydollarsofhismoneywasgone,hemovedtoafifteen-centlodging-houseintheBowery,wheretherewasabarelounging-roomfilledwithtablesandbenchesaswellassomechairs.Herehispreferencewastoclosehiseyesanddreamofotherdays,ahabitwhichgrewuponhim.Itwasnotsleepatfirst,butamentalhearkeningbacktoscenesandincidentsinhisChicagolife.Asthepresentbecamedarker,thepastgrewbrighter,andallthatconcerneditstoodinrelief.

Hewasunconsciousofjusthowmuchthishabithadholdofhimuntilonedayhefoundhislipsrepeatinganoldanswerhehadmadetooneofhisfriends.TheywereinFitzgeraldandMoy’s.Itwasasifhestoodinthedoorofhiselegantlittleoffice,comfortablydressed,talkingtoSagarMorrisonaboutthevalueofSouthChicagorealestateinwhichthelatterwasabouttoinvest.

“Howwouldyouliketocomeinonthatwithme.”heheardMorrisonsay.

“Notme,”heanswered,justashehadyearsbefore.“Ihavemyhandsfullnow.”

Themovementofhislipsarousedhim.Hewonderedwhetherhehadreallyspoken.Thenexttimehenoticedanythingofthesorthereallydidtalk.

“Whydon’tyoujump,youbloodyfool.”hewassaying.“Jump!”

ItwasafunnyEnglishstoryhewastellingtoacompanyofactors.Evenashisvoicerecalledhim,hewassmiling.Acrustyoldcodger,sittingnearby,seemeddisturbed;atleast,hestaredinamostpointedway.Hurstwoodstraightenedup.Thehumorofthememoryfledinaninstantandhefeltashamed.Forrelief,helefthischairandstrolledoutintothestreets.

Oneday,lookingdownthead.columnsofthe“EveningWorld,”hesawwhereanewplaywasattheCasino.Instantly,hecametoamentalhalt.Carriehadgone!Herememberedseeingaposterofheronlyyesterday,butnodoubtitwasoneleftuncoveredbythenewsigns.Curiously,thisfactshookhimup.Hehadalmosttoadmitthatsomehowhewasdependinguponherbeinginthecity.Nowshewasgone.Hewonderedhowthisimportantfacthadskippedhim.Goodnessknowswhenshewouldbebacknow.Impelledbyanervousfear,heroseandwentintothedingyhall,wherehecountedhisremainingmoney,unseen.Therewerebuttendollarsinall.

Hewonderedhowalltheseotherlodging-housepeoplearoundhimgotalong.Theydidn’tseemtodoanything.Perhapstheybegged—unquestionablytheydid.Manywasthedimehehadgiventosuchastheyinhisday.Hehadseenothermenaskingformoneyonthestreets.Maybehecouldgetsomethatway.Therewashorrorinthisthought.

Sittinginthelodging-houseroom,hecametohislastfiftycents.Hehadsavedandcounteduntilhishealthwasaffected.Hisstoutnesshadgone.Withit,eventhesemblanceofafitinhisclothes.Nowhedecidedhemustdosomething,and,walkingabout,sawanotherdaygoby,bringinghimdowntohislasttwentycents—notenoughtoeatforthemorrow.

Summoningallhiscourage,hecrossedtoBroadwayanduptotheBroadwayCentralhotel.Withinablockhehalted,undecided.Abig,heavy-facedporterwasstandingatoneofthesideentrances,lookingout.Hurstwoodpurposedtoappealtohim.Walkingstraightup,hewasuponhimbeforehecouldturnaway.

“Myfriend,”hesaid,recognizingeveninhisplighttheman’sinferiority,“isthereanythingaboutthishotelthatIcouldgettodo.”

Theporterstaredathimthewhilehecontinuedtotalk.

“I’moutofworkandoutofmoneyandI’vegottogetsome-thing,-itdoesn’tmatterwhat.Idon’tcaretotalkaboutwhatI’vebeen,butifyou’dtellmehowtogetsomethingtodo,I’dbemuchobligedtoyou.Itwouldn’tmatterifitonlylastedafewdaysjustnow.I’vegottohavesomething.”

Theporterstillgazed,tryingtolookindifferent.Then,seeingthatHurstwoodwasabouttogoon,hesaid:

“I’venothingtodowithit.You’llhavetoaskinside.”

Curiously,thisstirredHurstwoodtofurthereffort.

“Ithoughtyoumighttellme.”

Thefellowshookhisheadirritably.

Insidewenttheex-managerandstraighttoanofficeofftheclerk’sdesk.Oneofthemanagersofthehotelhappenedtobethere.Hurstwoodlookedhimstraightintheeye.

“Couldyougivemesomethingtodoforafewdays.”hesaid.“I’minapositionwhereIhavetogetsomethingatonce.”

Thecomfortablemanagerlookedathim,asmuchastosay:“Well,Ishouldjudgeso.”

“Icamehere,”explainedHurstwood,nervously,“becauseI’vebeenamanagermyselfinmyday.I’vehadbadluckinawaybutI’mnotheretotellyouthat.Iwantsomethingtodo,ifonlyforaweek.”

Themanimaginedhesawafeverishgleamintheapplicant’seye.

“Whathoteldidyoumanage.”heinquired.

“Itwasn’tahotel,”saidHurstwood.“IwasmanagerofFitzgeraldandMoy’splaceinChicagoforfifteenyears.”

“Isthatso.”saidthehotelman.“Howdidyoucometogetoutofthat.”

ThefigureofHurstwoodwasrathersurprisingincontrasttothefact.

“Well,byfoolishnessofmyown.Itisn’tanythingtotalkaboutnow.Youcouldfindoutifyouwantedto.I’m‘broke’nowand,ifyouwillbelieveme,Ihaven’teatenanythingto-day.”

Thehotelmanwasslightlyinterestedinthisstory.Hecouldhardlytellwhattodowithsuchafigure,andyetHurstwood’searnestnessmadehimwishtodosomething.

“CallOlsen,”hesaid,turningtotheclerk.

Inreplytoabellandadisappearinghall-boy,Olsen,theheadporter,appeared.

“Olsen,”saidthemanager,“isthereanythingdownstairsyoucouldfindforthismantodo.I’dliketogivehimsomething.”

“Idon’tknow,sir,”saidOlsen.“Wehaveaboutallthehelpweneed.IthinkIcouldfindsomething,sir,though,ifyoulike.”

“Do.TakehimtothekitchenandtellWilsontogivehimsomethingtoeat.”

“Allright,sir,”saidOlsen.

Hurstwoodfollowed.Outofthemanager’ssight,theheadporter’smannerchanged.

“Idon’tknowwhatthedevilthereistodo,”heobserved.

Hurstwoodsaidnothing.Tohimthebigtrunkhustlerwasasubjectforprivatecontempt.

“You’retogivethismansomethingtoeat,”heobservedtothecook.

ThelatterlookedHurstwoodover,andseeingsomethingkeenandintellectualinhiseyes,said:

“Well,sitdownoverthere.”

ThuswasHurstwoodinstalledintheBroadwayCentral,butnotforlong.Hewasinnoshapeormoodtodothescrubworkthatexistsaboutthefoundationofeveryhotel.Nothingbetteroffering,hewassettoaidthefireman,toworkaboutthebasement,todoanythingandeverythingthatmightoffer.Porters,cooks,firemen,clerks—allwereoverhim.Moreoverhisappearancedidnotpleasetheseindividuals—histemperwastoolonely—andtheymadeitdisagreeableforhim.

Withthestolidityandindifferenceofdespair,however,heendureditall,sleepinginanatticattheroofofthehouse,eatingwhatthecookgavehim,acceptingafewdollarsaweek,whichhetriedtosave.Hisconstitutionwasinnoshapetoendure.

OnedaythefollowingFebruaryhewassentonanerrandtoalargecoalcompany’soffice.Ithadbeensnowingandthawingandthestreetsweresloppy.Hesoakedhisshoesinhisprogressandcamebackfeelingdullandweary.Allthenextdayhefeltunusuallydepressedandsataboutasmuchaspossible,totheirritationofthosewhoadmiredenergyinothers.

Intheafternoonsomeboxesweretobemovedtomakeroomfornewculinarysupplies.Hewasorderedtohandleatruck.Encounteringabigbox,hecouldnotliftit.

“What’sthematterthere.”saidtheheadporter.“Can’tyouhandleit.”

Hewasstrainingtoliftit,butnowhequit.

“No,”hesaid,weakly.

Themanlookedathimandsawthathewasdeathlypale.

“Notsick,areyou.”heasked.“IthinkIam,”returnedHurstwood.

“Well,you’dbettergositdown,then.”

Thishedid,butsoongrewrapidlyworse.Itseemedallhecoulddotocrawltohisroom,whereheremainedforaday.

“ThatmanWheeler’ssick,”reportedoneofthelackeystothenightclerk.

“What’sthematterwithhim.”

“Idon’tknow.He’sgotahighfever.”

Thehotelphysicianlookedathim.

“BettersendhimtoBellevue,”herecommended.“He’sgotpneumonia.”

Accordingly,hewascartedaway.

Inthreeweekstheworstwasover,butitwasnearlythefirstofMaybeforehisstrengthpermittedhimtobeturnedout.Thenhewasdischarged.

Nomoreweaklylookingobjecteverstrolledoutintothespringsunshinethantheoncehale,lustymanager.Allhiscorpulencehadfled.Hisfacewasthinandpale,hishandswhite,hisbodyflabby.Clothesandall,heweighedbutonehundredandthirty-fivepounds.Someoldgarmentshadbeengivenhim—acheapbrowncoatandmisfitpairoftrousers.Alsosomechangeandadvice.Hewastoldtoapplytothecharities.

AgainheresortedtotheBowerylodging-house,broodingoverwheretolook.Fromthisitwasbutasteptobeggary.

“Whatcanamando.”hesaid.“Ican’tstarve.”

HisfirstapplicationwasinsunnySecondAvenue.Awell-dressedmancameleisurelystrollingtowardhimoutofStuyvesantPark.Hurstwoodnervedhimselfandsidlednear.

“Wouldyoumindgivingmetencents.”hesaid,directly.“I’minapositionwhereImustasksomeone.”

Themanscarcelylookedathim,fishedinhisvestpocketandtookoutadime.

“Thereyouare,”hesaid.

“Muchobliged,”saidHurstwood,softly,buttheotherpaidnomoreattentiontohim.

Satisfiedwithhissuccessandyetashamedofhissituation,hedecidedthathewouldonlyaskfortwenty-fivecentsmore,sincethatwouldbesufficient.Hestrolledaboutsizinguppeople,butitwaslongbeforejusttherightfaceandsituationarrived.Whenheasked,hewasrefused.Shockedbythisresult,hetookanhourtorecoverandthenaskedagain.Thistimeanickelwasgivenhim.Bythemostwatchfulefforthedidgettwentycentsmore,butitwaspainful.

Thenextdayheresortedtothesameeffort,experiencingavarietyofrebuffsandoneortwogenerousreceptions.Atlastitcrossedhismindthattherewasascienceoffaces,andthatamancouldpicktheliberalcountenanceifhetried.

Itwasnopleasuretohim,however,thisstoppingofpassers-by.Hesawonemantakenupforitandnowtroubledlestheshouldbearrested.Nevertheless,hewenton,vaguelyanticipatingthatindefinitesomethingwhichisalwaysbetter.

Itwaswithasenseofsatisfaction,then,thathesawannouncedonemorningthereturnoftheCasinoCompany,“withMissCarrieMadenda.”Hehadthoughtofheroftenenoughindayspast.Howsuccessfulshewas—howmuchmoneyshemusthave!Evennow,however,ittookasevererunofilllucktodecidehimtoappealtoher.Hewastrulyhungrybeforehesaid:

“I’llaskher.Shewon’trefusemeafewdollars.”

Accordingly,heheadedfortheCasinooneafternoon,passingitseveraltimesinanefforttolocatethestageentrance.ThenhesatinBryantPark,ablockaway,waiting.“Shecan’trefusetohelpmealittle,”hekeptsayingtohimself.

Beginningwithhalf-pastsix,hehoveredlikeashadowabouttheThirty-ninthStreetentrance,pretendingalwaystobeahurryingpedestrianandyetfearfullestheshouldmisshisobject.Hewasslightlynervous,too,nowthattheeventfulhourhadarrived;butbeingweakandhungry,hisabilitytosufferwasmodified.Atlasthesawthattheactorswerebeginningtoarrive,andhisnervoustensionincreased,untilitseemedasifhecouldnotstandmuchmore.

OncehethoughthesawCarriecomingandmovedforward,onlytoseethathewasmistaken.

“Shecan’tbelong,now,”hesaidtohimself,halffearingtoencounterherandequallydepressedatthethoughtthatshemighthavegoneinbyanotherway.Hisstomachwassoemptythatitached.

Individualafterindividualpassedhim,nearlyallwelldressed,almostallindifferent.Hesawcoachesrollingby,gentlemenpassingwithladies—theevening’smerrimentwasbeginninginthisregionoftheatresandhotels.

Suddenlyacoachrolledupandthedriverjumpeddowntoopenthedoor.BeforeHurstwoodcouldact,twoladiesflouncedacrossthebroadwalkanddisappearedinthestagedoor.HethoughthesawCarrie,butitwassounexpected,soelegantandfaraway,hecouldhardlytell.Hewaitedawhilelonger,growingfeverishwithwant,andthenseeingthatthestagedoornolongeropened,andthatamerryaudiencewasarriving,heconcludeditmusthavebeenCarrieandturnedaway.

“Lord,”hesaid,hasteningoutofthestreetintowhichthemorefortunatewerepouring,“I’vegottogetsomething.”

Atthathour,whenBroadwayiswonttoassumeitsmostinterestingaspect,apeculiarindividualinvariablytookhisstandatthecornerofTwenty-sixthStreetandBroadway—aspotwhichisalsointersectedbyFifthAvenue.Thiswasthehourwhenthetheatreswerejustbeginningtoreceivetheirpatrons.Firesignsannouncingthenight’samusementsblazedoneveryhand.Cabsandcarriages,theirlampsgleaminglikeyelloweyes,patteredby.Couplesandpartiesofthreeandfourfreelymingledinthecommoncrowd,whichpouredbyinathickstream,laughingandjesting.OnFifthAvenuewereloungers—afewwealthystrollers,agentlemanineveningdresswithhisladyonhisarm,someclub-menpassingfromonesmoking-roomtoanother.Acrossthewaythegreathotelsshowedahundredgleamingwindows,theircafesandbilliard-roomsfilledwithacomfortable,well-dressed,andpleasure-lovingthrong.Allaboutwasthenight,pulsatingwiththethoughtsofpleasureandexhilaration—thecuriousenthusiasmofagreatcitybentuponfindingjoyinathousanddifferentways.

Thisuniqueindividualwasnolessthananex-soldierturnedreligionist,who,havingsufferedthewhipsandprivationsofourpeculiarsocialsystem,hadconcludedthathisdutytotheGodwhichheconceivedlayinaidinghisfellow-man.Theformofaidwhichhechosetoadministerwasentirelyoriginalwithhimself.Itconsistedofsecuringabedforallsuchhomelesswayfarersasshouldapplytohimatthisparticularspot,thoughhehadscarcelythewherewithaltoprovideacomfortablehabitationforhimself.Takinghisplaceamidthislightsomeatmosphere,hewouldstand,hisstockyfigurecloakedinagreatcapeovercoat,hisheadprotectedbyabroadslouchhat,awaitingtheapplicantswhohadinvariouswayslearnedthenatureofhischarity.Forawhilehewouldstandalone,gazinglikeanyidleruponaneverfascinatingscene.Ontheeveninginquestion,apolicemanpassingsalutedhimas“captain,”inafriendlyway.Anurchinwhohadfrequentlyseenhimbefore,stoppedtogaze.Allotherstookhimfornothingoutoftheordinary,saveinthematterofdress,andconceivedofhimasastrangerwhistlingandidlingforhisownamusement.

Asthefirsthalf-hourwaned,certaincharactersappeared.Hereandthereinthepassingcrowdsonemightsee,nowandthen,aloitereredginginterestedlynear.Aslouchyfigurecrossedtheoppositecornerandglancedfurtivelyinhisdirection.AnothercamedownFifthAvenuetothecornerofTwenty-sixthStreet,tookageneralsurvey,andhobbledoffagain.TwoorthreenoticeableBowerytypesedgedalongtheFifthAvenuesideofMadisonSquare,butdidnotventureover.Thesoldier,inhiscapeovercoat,walkedashortlineoftenfeetathiscorner,toandfro,indifferentlywhistling.

Asnineo’clockapproached,someofthehubbuboftheearlierhourpassed.Theatmosphereofthehotelswasnotsoyouthful.Theair,too,wascolder.Oneveryhandcuriousfiguresweremoving—watchersandpeepers,withoutanimaginarycircle,whichtheyseemedafraidtoenter—adozeninall.Presently,withthearrivalofakeenersenseofcold,onefigurecame

forward.ItcrossedBroadwayfromouttheshadowofTwenty-sixthStreet,and,inahalting,circuitousway,arrivedclosetothewaitingfigure.Therewassomethingshamefacedordiffidentaboutthemovement,asiftheintentionweretoconcealanyideaofstoppinguntiltheverylastmoment.Thensuddenly,closetothesoldier,camethehalt.

Thecaptainlookedinrecognition,buttherewasnoespecialgreeting.Thenewcomernoddedslightlyandmurmuredsomethinglikeonewhowaitsforgifts.Theothersimplymotionedto-wardtheedgeofthewalk.

“Standoverthere,”hesaid.

Bythisthespellwasbroken.Evenwhilethesoldierresumedhisshort,solemnwalk,otherfiguresshuffledforward.Theydidnotsomuchasgreettheleader,butjoinedtheone,snifflingandhitchingandscrapingtheirfeet.

“Gold,ain’tit.”

“I’mgladwinter’sover.”

“Looksasthoughitmightrain.”

Themotleycompanyhadincreasedtoten.Oneortwokneweachotherandconversed.Othersstoodoffafewfeet,notwishingtobeinthecrowdandyetnotcountedout.Theywerepeevish,crusty,silent,eyingnothinginparticularandmovingtheirfeet.

Therewouldhavebeentalkingsoon,butthesoldiergavethemnochance.Countingsufficienttobegin,hecameforward.

“Beds,eh,allofyou.”

Therewasageneralshuffleandmurmurofapproval.

“Well,lineuphere.I’llseewhatIcando.Ihaven’tacentmyself.”

Theyfellintoasortofbroken,raggedline.Onemightsee,now,someofthechiefcharacteristicsbycontrast.Therewasawoodenlegintheline.Hatswerealldrooping,agroupthatwouldillbecomeasecond-handHesterStreetbasementcollection.Trouserswereallwarpedandfrayedatthebottomandcoatswornandfaded.Intheglareofthestorelights,someofthefaceslookeddryandchalky;otherswereredwithblotchesandpuffedinthecheeksandundertheeyes;oneortwowererawbonedandremindedoneofrailroadhands.Afewspectatorscamenear,drawnbytheseeminglyconferringgroup,thenmoreandmore,andquicklytherewasapushing,gapingcrowd.Someoneinthelinebegantotalk.

“Silence!”exclaimedthecaptain.“Now,then,gentlemen,thesemenarewithoutbeds.Theyhavetohavesomeplacetosleeptonight.Theycan’tlieoutinthestreets.Ineedtwelvecentstoputoneofthemtobed.Whowillgiveittome.”

Noreply.

“Well,we’llhavetowaithere,boys,untilsomeonedoes.Twelvecentsisn’tsoverymuchforoneman.”

“Here’sfifteen,”exclaimedayoungman,peeringforwardwithstrainedeyes.“It’sallIcanafford.”

“Allright.NowIhavefifteen.Stepoutoftheline,”andseizingonebytheshoulder,thecaptainmarchedhimoffalittlewayandstoodhimupalone.

Comingback,heresumedhisplaceandbeganagain.

“Ihavethreecentsleft.Thesemenmustbeputtobedsomehow.Thereare”—counting—”one,two,three,four,five,six,seven,eight,nine,ten,eleven,twelvemen.Ninecentsmorewillputthenextmantobed;givehimagood,comfortablebedforthenight.Igorightalongandlookafterthatmyself.Whowillgivemeninecents.”

Oneofthewatchers,thistimeamiddle-agedman,handedhimafive-centpiece.

“Now,Ihaveeightcents.Fourmorewillgivethismanabed.Come,gentlemen.Wearegoingveryslowthisevening.Youallhavegoodbeds.Howaboutthese.”

“Hereyouare,”remarkedabystander,puttingacoinintohishand.

“That,”saidthecaptain,lookingatthecoin,“paysfortwobedsfortwomenandgivesmefiveonthenextone.Whowillgivemesevencentsmore.”

“Iwill,”saidavoice.

ComingdownSixthAvenuethisevening,HurstwoodchancedtocrosseastthroughTwenty-sixthStreettowardThirdAvenue.Hewaswhollydisconsolateinspirit,hungrytowhathedeemedanalmostmortalextent,weary,anddefeated.HowshouldhegetatCarrienow.Itwouldbeelevenbeforetheshowwasover.Ifshecameinacoach,shewouldgoawayinone.Hewouldneedtointerruptundermosttryingcircumstances.Worstofall,hewashungryandweary,andatbestawholedaymustintervene,forhehadnothearttotryagainto-night.Hehadnofoodandnobed.

WhenhenearedBroadway,henoticedthecaptain’sgatheringofwanderers,butthinkingittobetheresultofastreetpreacherorsomepatentmedicinefakir,wasabouttopasson.However,incrossingthestreettowardMadisonSquarePark,henoticedthelineofmenwhosebedswerealreadysecured,stretchingoutfromthemainbodyofthecrowd.Intheglareoftheneighboringelectriclightherecognizedatypeofhisownkind—thefigureswhomhesawaboutthestreetsandinthelodging-houses,driftinginmindandbodylikehimself.Hewonderedwhatitcouldbeandturnedback.

Therewasthecaptaincurtlypleadingasbefore.Heheardwithastonishmentandasenseofrelieftheoft-repeatedwords:“Thesemenmusthaveabed.”Beforehimwasthelineofunfortunateswhosebedswereyettobehad,andseeinganewcomerquietlyedgeupandtakeapositionattheendoftheline,hedecidedtodolikewise.Whatusetocontend.Hewaswearyto-night.Itwasasimplewayoutofonedifficulty,atleast.To-morrow,maybe,hewoulddobetter.

Backofhim,wheresomeofthosewerewhosebedsweresafe,arelaxedairwasapparent.The

strainofuncertaintybeingremoved,heheardthemtalkingwithmoderatefreedomandsomeleaningtowardsociability.Politics,religion,thestateofthegovernment,somenewspapersensations,andthemorenotoriousfactstheworldover,foundmouthpiecesandauditorsthere.Crackedandhuskyvoicespronouncedforciblyuponoddmatters.Vagueandramblingobservationsweremadeinreply.

Thereweresquints,andleers,andsomedull,ox-likestaresfromthosewhoweretoodullortoowearytoconverse.

Standingtells.Hurstwoodbecamemorewearywaiting.Hethoughtheshoulddropsoonandshiftedrestlesslyfromonefoottotheother.Atlasthisturncame.Themanaheadhadbeenpaidforandgonetotheblessedlineofsuccess.Hewasnowfirst,andalreadythecaptainwastalkingforhim.

“Twelvecents,gentlemen—twelvecentsputsthismantobed.Hewouldn’tstandhereinthecoldifhehadanyplacetogo.”

Hurstwoodswallowedsomethingthatrosetohisthroat.Hungerandweaknesshadmadeacowardofhim.

“Hereyouare,”saidastranger,handingmoneytothecaptain.

Nowthelatterputakindlyhandontheex-manager’sshoulder.“Lineupoverthere,”hesaid.

Oncethere,Hurstwoodbreathedeasier.Hefeltasiftheworldwerenotquitesobadwithsuchagoodmaninit.Othersseemedtofeellikehimselfaboutthis.

“Captain’sagreatfeller,ain’the.”saidthemanahead—alittle,woebegone,helpless-lookingsortofindividual,wholookedasthoughhehadeverbeenthesportandcareoffortune.

“Yes,”saidHurstwood,indifferently.

“Huh!there’salotbackthereyet,”saidamanfartherup,leaningoutandlookingbackattheapplicantsforwhomthecaptainwaspleading.

“Yes.Mustbeoverahundredto-night,”saidanother.

“Lookattheguyinthecab,”observedathird.

Acabhadstopped.Somegentlemanineveningdressreachedoutabilltothecaptain,whotookitwithsimplethanksandturnedawaytohisline.Therewasageneralcraningofnecksasthejewelinthewhiteshirtfrontsparkledandthecabmovedoff.Eventhecrowdgapedinawe.

“Thatfixesupninemenforthenight,”saidthecaptain,countingoutasmanyofthelinenearhim.“Lineupoverthere.Now,then,thereareonlyseven.Ineedtwelvecents.”

Moneycameslowly.Inthecourseoftimethecrowdthinnedouttoameagerhandful.FifthAvenue,saveforanoccasionalcaborfootpassenger,wasbare.Broadwaywasthinlypeopledwithpedestrians.Onlynowandthenastrangerpassingnoticedthesmallgroup,handedoutacoin,andwentaway,unheeding.

Thecaptainremainedstolidanddetermined.Hetalkedon,veryslowly,utteringthefewestwordsandwithacertainassurance,asthoughhecouldnotfail.

“Come;Ican’tstayouthereallnight.Thesemenaregettingtiredandcold.Someonegivemefourcents.”

Therecameatimewhenhesaidnothingatall.Moneywashandedhim,andforeachtwelvecentshesingledoutamanandputhimintheotherline.Thenhewalkedupanddownasbefore,lookingattheground.

Thetheatresletout.Firesignsdisappeared.Aclockstruckeleven.Anotherhalf-hourandhewasdowntothelasttwomen.

“Come,now,”heexclaimedtoseveralcuriousobservers;“eighteencentswillfixusallupforthenight.Eighteencents.Ihavesix.Somebodygivemethemoney.Remember,IhavetogoovertoBrooklynyetto-night.BeforethatIhavetotakethesemendownandputthemtobed.Eighteencents.”

Nooneresponded.Hewalkedtoandfro,lookingdownforseveralminutes,occasionallysayingsoftly:“Eighteencents.”Itseemedasifthispaltrysumwoulddelaythedesiredculminationlongerthanalltheresthad.Hurstwood,buoyedupslightlybythelonglineofwhichhewasapart,refrainedwithaneffortfromgroaning,hewassoweak.

AtlastaladyinoperacapeandrustlingskirtscamedownFifthAvenue,accompaniedbyherescort.Hurstwoodgazedwearily,remindedbyherbothofCarrieinhernewworldandofthetimewhenhehadescortedhisownwifeinlikemanner.

Whilehewasgazing,sheturnedand,lookingattheremarkablecompany,sentherescortover.Hecame,holdingabillinhisfingers,allelegantandgraceful.

“Hereyouare,”hesaid.

“Thanks,”saidthecaptain,turningtothetworemainingapplicants.“Nowwehavesomeforto-morrownight,”headded.

Therewithhelinedupthelasttwoandproceededtothehead,countingashewent.

“Onehundredandthirty-seven,”heannounced.“Now,boys,lineup.Rightdressthere.Wewon’tbemuchlongeraboutthis.Steady,now.”

Heplacedhimselfattheheadandcalledout“Forward.”Hurstwoodmovedwiththeline.AcrossFifthAvenue,throughMadisonSquarebythewindingpaths,eastonTwenty-thirdStreet,anddownThirdAvenuewoundthelong,serpentinecompany.Midnightpedestriansandloiterersstoppedandstaredasthecompanypassed.Chattingpolicemen,atvariouscorners,staredindifferentlyornoddedtotheleader,whomtheyhadseenbefore.OnThirdAvenuetheymarched,aseeminglywearyway,toEighthStreet,wheretherewasalodginghouse,closed,apparently,forthenight.Theywereexpected,however.

Outsideinthegloomtheystood,whiletheleaderparleyedwithin.Thendoorsswungopenandtheywereinvitedinwitha“Steady,now.”

Someonewasattheheadshowingrooms,sothattherewasnodelayforkeys.Toilingupthecreakystairs,Hurstwoodlookedbackandsawthecaptain,watching;thelastoneofthelinebeingincludedinhisbroadsolicitude.Thenhegatheredhiscloakabouthimandstrolledoutintothenight.

“Ican’tstandmuchofthis,”saidHurstwood,whoselegsachedhimpainfully,ashesatdownuponthemiserablebunkinthesmall,lightlesschamberallottedtohim.“I’vegottoeat,orI’lldie.”