lots and the bicycle factory, until he reached the ruins of an old
smelter just beyond the Missouri Pacific tracks. He had noticed the
place earlier in the day as he passed it on his way to the brickyard.
Groping about over the fallen walls of the furnace, stumbling over
scraps of iron and broken timbers in the dusk, he searched for a corner
that would in some measure protect him from the wind. It grew dark
very fast, and soon he tripped and fell against an old boiler lying
upturned in the ruin. Throwing out his hand to save himself, by chance,
he caught the door of the firebox, and in a moment more was inside,
crouching in the accumulated dirt, iron rust and ashes. At least the
wind could not get at him here; and leaning his back against the iron
wall of his strange bed-room, tired and hungry, he fell asleep.




CHAPTER II


The next morning Dick crawled from his rude lodging place stiff and
sore, and after making his toilet as best he could, started again on
his search for employment. It was nearly noon when he met a man who
in answer to his inquiry said: "I'm out of a job myself, stranger, but
I've got a little money left; you look hungry."

Dick admitted that he had had no breakfast.

"Tell you what I'll do," said the other. "I ain't got much, but we can
go to a joint I know of where they set up a big free lunch. I'll pay
for the beer and you can wade into the lunch."