"Then just be careful, will you? I ain't going to have you slander me and prejudice people against me, and I mean to protect myself. Do you understand me?"

"I think I do, Mr. Hogan, but I don't feel particularly alarmed."

Joe got up and went out in search of breakfast. Be thought of the place where he took supper but was deterred from going there by the high prices.

"I suppose I shall have to pay a dollar for my breakfast," he thought, "but I can't afford to pay two. My capital is reduced to five dollars and I may not be able to get anything to do to-day."

Joe finally succeeded in finding a humble place where for a dollar he obtained a cup of coffee, a plate of cold meat, and as much bread as he could eat.

"I shall have to make it do with two meals a day," thought our hero.

"Then it will cost me three dollars a day to live, including lodging, and I shall have to be pretty lucky to make that."

After breakfast Joe walked about the streets, hoping that something would turn up. But his luck did not seem to be so good as the day before. Hour after hour passed and no chance offered itself. As he was walking along feeling somewhat anxious, he met Hogan.

"Lend me a dollar," said Hogan quickly. "I'm dead broke."

"Where has all your money gone?" asked Joe,

"Lost it at faro. Lend me a dollar and I'll win it all back."

"I have no money to spare," said Joe decidedly.

"Curse you for a young skinflint!" said Hogan, scowling. "I'll get even with you yet."

CHAPTER XV

THE FOILED ASSASSIN

About four o'clock Joe went into a restaurant and got some dinner.

In spite of his wish to be economical, his dinner bill amounted to a dollar and a half, and now his cash in hand was reduced to two dollars and a half.

Joe began to feel uneasy.

"This won't do," he said to himself. "At this rate I shall soon be penniless. I must get something to do."

In the evening he strolled down Montgomery Street to Telegraph Hill.

It was not a very choice locality, the only buildings being shabby little dens, frequented by a class of social outlaws who kept concealed during the day but came out at night--a class to which the outrages frequent at this time were rightly attributed.

Joe was stumbling along the uneven path, when all at once he found himself confronted by a tall fellow wearing a slouched hat. The man paused in front of him, but did not say a word. Finding that he was not disposed to move aside, Joe stepped aside himself. He did not as yet suspect the fellow's purpose. He understood it, however, when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Quick, boy, your money!" said the ruffian.

Having but two dollars and a half, Joe naturally felt reluctant to part with it, and this gave him the courage to object.

"I've got none to spare," he said and tried to tear himself away.

His resistance led the fellow to suspect that he had a considerable sum with him. Joe felt himself seized and carried into a den close by, which was frequented by thieves and desperate characters.

There was a counter, on which was set a dim oil-lamp. There were a few bottles in sight, and a villainous-looking fellow appeared to preside over the establishment. The latter looked up as Joe was brought in.

"Who have you there?" asked the barkeeper.

"A young cove as don't want to part with his money."

"You'd better hand over what you've got, young 'un."

Joe looked from one to the other and thought he had never seen such villainous faces before.

"What are you lookin' at?" demanded his captor suspiciously, "You want to know us again, do you? Maybe you'd like to get us hauled up, would you?"

"I don't want ever to set eyes on you again."

"That's the way to talk. As soon as our business is over, there ain't no occasion for our meetin' again. Don't you go to point us out, or----"

He didn't finish the sentence, but whipped out a long knife, which made any further remarks unnecessary.

Under the circumstances, resistance would be madness and Joe drew out his money.

"Is that all you've got?" demanded the thief.

"Every cent," said Joe. "It won't leave me anything to pay for my night's lodging."

"Then you can sleep out. I've done it many a time. But I'll take the liberty of searching you, and seeing if you tell the truth or not."

"Just as you like," said Joe.

Joe was searched, but no more money was found.

"The boy's told the truth," said his captor. "Two dollars and a half is a pretty small haul."

"I am sorry, gentlemen, that I haven't anything more. It isn't my fault, for I've tried hard to get something to do to-day, and couldn't."

"You're a cool customer," said the barkeeper.

"I expect to be to-night, for I shall have to sleep out."

"You can go," said his captor, as he opened the door of the den; "and don't come round here again, unless you've got more money with you."

"I don't think I shall," said Joe.

When Joe found himself penniless, he really felt less anxious than when he had at least money enough to pay for lodging and breakfast.

Having lost everything, any turn of fortune must be for the better.

"Something has got to turn up pretty quick," thought Joe. "It's just as well I didn't get a job to-day. I should only have had more money to lose."