There was no room on the bed, but Ben found s.p.a.ce beside it on the carpet, and accordingly stretched himself out.

[A] The description of the room under the wharf, and the circ.u.mstances of its occupation by a company of street boys, are not imaginary. It was finally discovered, and broken up by the police, the details being given, at the time, in the daily papers, as some of my New York readers will remember. Discovery did not take place, however, until it had been occupied some time.

"How do you like it?" asked Mike.

"Tip-top," said Ben. "How'd you get the carpet and beds? Did you buy 'em?"

"Yes," said Mike, with a wink; "but the man wasn't in, and we didn't pay for 'em."

"You stole them, then?"

"We took 'em," said Mike, who had an objection to the word stole.

"How did you get them down here without the copp seein' you?"

"We hid 'em away in the daytime, and didn't bring 'em here till night.

We came near gettin' caught."

"How long have you been down here?"

"Most a month."

"It's a good place."

"Yes," said Mike, "and the rent is very reasonable. We don't have to pay nothin' for lodgin'. It's cheaper'n the Lodge."

"That's so," said Ben. "I'm sleepy," he said, gaping. "I've been to the Old Bowery to-night. Good-night!"

"Good-night!"

In five minutes Ben was fast asleep. Half an hour later, and not a sound was heard in the room under the wharf except the occasional deep breathing of some of the boys. The policeman who trod his beat near by little suspected that just at hand, and almost under his feet, was a rendezvous of street vagrants and juvenile thieves, for such I am sorry to say was the character of some of the boys who frequented these cheap lodgings.

In addition to the articles already described there were two or three chairs, which had been contributed by different members of the organization.

Ben slept soundly through the night. When he woke up, the gray morning light entering from the open front towards the sea had already lighted up indistinctly the s.p.a.ce between the floors. Two or three of the boys were already sitting up, yawning and stretching themselves after their night's slumber. Among these was Mike Sweeny.

"Are you awake, Ben?" he asked.

"Yes," said Ben; "I didn't hardly know where I was at first."

"It's a bully place, isn't it?"

"That's so. How'd you come across it?"

"Oh, some of us boys found it out. We've been sleepin' here a month."

"Won't you let a feller in?"

"We might let you in. I'll speak to the boys."

"I'd like to sleep here," said Ben. "It's a good deal better than sleepin' out round. Who runs the hotel?"

"Well, I'm one of 'em."

"You might call it Sweeny's Hotel," suggested Ben, laughing.

"I aint the boss; Jim Bagley's got most to do with it."

"Which is he?"

"That's he, over on the next bed."

"What does he do?"

"He's a travellin' match merchant."

"That sounds big."

"Jim's smart,--he is. He makes more money'n any of us."

"Where does he travel?"

"Once he went to Californy in the steamer. He got a steerage ticket for seventy-five dollars; but he made more'n that blackin' boots for the other pa.s.sengers afore they got there. He stayed there three months, and then came home."

"Does he travel now?"

"Yes, he buys a lot of matches, and goes up the river or down into Jersey, and is gone a week. A little while ago he went to Buffalo."

"Oh, yes; I know where that is."

"Blest if I do."

"It's in the western part of York State, just across from Canada."

"Who told you?"

"I learned it in school."

"I didn't know you was a scholar, Ben."

"I aint now. I've forgot most all I ever knew. I haven't been to school since I was ten years old."

"Where was that?"

"In the country."

"Well, I never went to school more'n a few weeks. I can read a little, but not much."

"It costs a good deal to go to Buffalo. How did Jim make it while he was gone?"