MR. HOGAN’S PROPOSAL
Joe enjoyed Hogan’s amazement. He felt rather proud of his rapid
progress. It was not four months since, a poor, country boy, he had
come up to New York, and fallen a prey to a designing sharper. Now,
on the other side of the continent, he was master of a business and
owner of real estate.
The day has passed for such rapid progress. California is no longer
a new country, and the conditions of living closely approximate
those in the East. I am careful to say this because I don’t wish to
mislead my young readers. Success is always attainable by pluck and
persistency, but the degree is dependent on circumstances.
“How have you made out?” asked Joe of his visitor.
“I’ve had hard luck,” grumbled Hogan, “I went to the mines, but I
wasn’t lucky.”
“Was that the case with other miners?” asked Joe, who had a shrewd
suspicion that Hogan’s ill-luck was largely the result of his
laziness and want of application.
“No,” said Hogan. “Other men around me were lucky, but I wasn’t.”
“Perhaps your claim was a poor one.”
“It was, as long as I had anything to do with it,” said Hogan. “I
sold it out for a trifle and the next day the other man found a
nugget. Wasn’t that cursed hard?” he grumbled.
“You ought to have kept on. Then you would have found the nugget.”
“No, I shouldn’t. I am too unlucky. If I had held on, it wouldn’t
have been there. You’ve got on well. You’re lucky.”
“Yes; I have no reason to complain. But I wasn’t lucky all the
time. I was robbed of every cent of money, when I met a good
friend, who bought this business for me.”
“Does it pay?” asked the other eagerly.
“Yes, it pays,” said Joe cautiously.
“How much do you make, say, in a week?” asked Hogan, leaning his
elbows on the counter and looking up in Joe’s face.
“Really, Mr. Hogan,” said Joe, “I don’t feel called upon to tell my
business to others.”
“I thought maybe you’d tell an old friend,” said Hogan.
Joe could not help laughing at the man’s matchless impudence.
“I don’t think you have treated me exactly like a friend, Mr.
Hogan,” he said. “You certainly did all you could to prevent my
coming to California.”
“There’s some mistake about that,” said Hogan.
“You’re under a misapprehension; but I won’t go into that matter
now. Will you trust me for my supper?”
“Yes,” said Joe promptly. “Sit down at that table.”
The man had treated him badly, but things had turned out favorably
for Joe, and he would not let Hogan suffer from hunger, if he could
relieve him.
Hogan needed no second invitation. He took a seat at a table
near-by, and ate enough for two men, but Joe could not repeat the
invitation he had given. He felt that he could not afford it.
It was rather late when Hogan sat down. When he finished, he was
the only one left in the restaurant, except Joe. He sauntered up to
the desk.
“You’ve got a good cook,” said Hogan, picking his teeth with a
knife.
“Yes,” answered Joe. “I think so.”
“You say the business pays well?”
“Yes; it satisfies me.”
“Are you alone? Have you no partner?”
“You could do better with one. Suppose you take me into business
with you?”
Joe was considerably surprised at this proposition from a man who
had swindled him.
“How much capital can you furnish?” he asked.
“I haven’t got any money. I’m dead broke,” said Hogan, “but I can
give my services. I can wait on the table. I’ll do that, and you
can give me my board and one-third of the profits. Come, now,
that’s a good offer. What do you say?”
Joe thought it best to be candid.
“I don’t want any partner, Mr. Hogan,” he said; “and I may as well
tell you, I don’t think I should care to be associated with you if
I did.”
“Do you mean to insult me?” asked Hogan, scowling.
“No; but I may as well be candid.”
“What’s the matter with me?” asked Hogan roughly.
“I don’t like the way you do business,” said Joe.
“Look here, young one, you put on too many airs just because you’re
keepin’ a one-horse restaurant,” said Hogan angrily.
“If it’s a one-horse restaurant, why do you want to become my
partner?” retorted Joe coolly.
“Because I’m hard up--I haven’t got a cent.”
“I’m sorry for you; but a man needn’t be in that condition long
here.”
“Where do you sleep?” asked Hogan suddenly.
“Here. I put a bed on the floor in one corner, and so am on hand in
the morning.”
“I say,” Hogan continued insinuatingly, “won’t you let me stay here
to-night?”
“Sleep here?”
“Yes.”
“I’d rather not, Mr. Hogan.”
“I haven’t a cent to pay for a lodging. If you don’t take me in, I
shall have to stay in the street all night.”
“You’ve slept out at the mines, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can do it here.”
“You’re hard on a poor man,” whined Hogan. “It wouldn’t cost you
anything to let me sleep here.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” said Joe; “but I prefer to choose my own company
at night.”
“I may catch my death of cold,” said Hogan.
“I hope not; but I don’t keep lodgings,” said Joe firmly.
“You haven’t any feeling for an unlucky man.”
“I have given you your supper, and not stinted you in any way.
What you ate would cost two dollars at my regular prices. I wasn’t
called to do it, for you never did me any service, and you are
owing me to-day fifty dollars, which you cheated me out of when I
was a poor boy. I won’t let you lodge here, but I will give you a
breakfast in the morning, if you choose to come round. Then you
will be strengthened for a day’s work, and can see what you can
find to do.”
Hogan saw that Joe was in earnest and walked out of the restaurant,
without a word.
When Joe was about to close his doors for the night his attention
was drawn to a man who was sitting down on the ground, a few feet
distant, with his head buried between his two hands, in an attitude
expressive of despondency.
Joe was warm-hearted and sympathetic, and, after a moment’s
hesitation, addressed the stranger.
“Is anything the matter with you, sir?” he asked. “Don’t you feel
well?”
The man addressed raised his head. He was a stout, strongly built
man, roughly dressed, but had a look which inspired confidence.
“I may as well tell you, boy,” he answered, “though you can’t help
me. I’ve been a cursed fool, that’s what’s the matter.”
“If you don’t mind telling me,” said Joe gently, “perhaps I can be
of service to you.”
The man shook his head.
“I don’t think you can,” he said, “but I’ll tell you, for all that.
Yesterday I came up from the mines with two thousand dollars. I was
about a year getting it together, and to me it was a fortune. I’m
a shoemaker by occupation, and lived in a town in Massachusetts,
where I have a wife and two young children. I left them a year ago
to go to the mines. I did well, and the money I told you about
would have made us all comfortable, if I could only have got it
home.”
“Were you robbed of it?” asked Joe, remembering his own experience.
“Yes; I was robbed of it, but not in the way you are thinking of. A
wily scoundrel induced me to enter a gambling-den, the Bella Union,
they call it. I wouldn’t play at first, but soon the fascination
seized me. I saw a man win a hundred dollars, and I thought I could
do the same, so I began, and won a little. Then I lost, and played
on to get my money back. In just an hour I was cleaned out of all
I had. Now I am penniless, and my poor family will suffer for my
folly.”
He buried his face in his hands once more and, strong man as he
was, he wept aloud.
“Have you had any supper, sir?” said Joe compassionately.
“No; but I have no appetite.”
“Have you any place to sleep?”
“No.”
“Then I can offer you a supper and a night’s lodging. Don’t be
discouraged. In the morning we can talk the matter over, and see
what can be done.”
The stranger rose and laid his hand on Joe’s arm.
“I don’t know how it is,” he said, “but your words give me courage.
I believe you have saved my life. I have a revolver left and I had
a mind to blow my brains out.”
“Would that have helped you or your family?”
“No, boy. I was a fool to think of it. I’ll accept your offer, and
to-morrow I’ll see what I can do. You’re the best friend I’ve met
since I left home.”