After that he began to inquire for the Marshall House, which he found
to be a large, red brick hostelry, with a broad second story veranda in
front. The sidewalk beneath was sprinkled with chairs partially
occupied by men reading their morning papers or smoking.

A few glanced curiously at the roughly dressed boy, who made his way
into a large hall and office combined, where trunks and grips were
stacked up by the score, and trim porters and waiters were gliding to
and fro.

He instantly felt himself out of place amid those well dressed people,
and smart servants. It was his first experience with a first class
city hotel.

So low did his courage ebb at first that he very nearly made up his
mind to retreat without attempting to see Captain Gary. In his
unwashed, uncombed condition, the contrast between himself and those
around was embarrassing enough even to his crude conception.

He stood gazing about in a half helpless manner, not knowing to whom to
apply for information.

"Where can I find Captain Gary?" he asked at length of a porter who
happened to be lounging near.

The negro inspected Ralph from head to foot, then demanded: "Do he stop
yere?"

"Yes. I have a letter for him."