"Things might have been different," said he. "You're a darned good boy;
and if you'll stay here till spring I'll get you a job."

2

There was no fire in my room, and it was cold; so there was no place to
sit except in the barroom, which I found deserted but for one man, when
I went back and sat down to think over my future. Should I go back to
the canal? I hated to do this, though all my acquaintances were there,
and the work was of the sort I had learned to do best; besides, here I
was in the West, and all the opportunities of the West were before me,
though it looked cold and dreary just now, and no great chances seemed
lying about for a boy like me. I was perplexed. I had lost my desire for
revenge on Rucker; and just then I felt no ambition, and saw no light. I
was ready, I suppose, to begin a life of drifting; this time with no
aim, not even a remote one--for my one object in life had vanished. But
something in the way of guidance always has come to me at such times;
and it came now. The one man who was in the bar when I came in got up,
and moving over by me, sat down in a chair by my side.

"Cold day," said he.

I agreed, and looked him over carefully. He was a tall man who wore a
long black Prince Albert coat which came down below his knees, a broad
felt hat, and no overcoat. He looked cold, and rather shabby; but he
talked with a good deal of style, and used many big words.

"Stranger here?" he asked.