"This young gentleman will room with me," said Graham.
"All right, sir," said the clerk. "Will you go up to your room now?"
"Yes."
The porter was summoned, and handed the key of No. 16. He took the two carpetbags, and led the way up-stairs, for the Pittsburg House had no elevator. Even in the best hotels at that time this modern convenience was not to be found.
The door of No. 16 was opened, revealing a plain room, about twelve feet square, provided, as Tom was glad to see, with two narrow beds.
"Have you got a quarter, Tom?" asked Graham.
Tom drew one from his pocket.
Graham took it and handed it to the porter, who expressed his thanks.
"It's always customary to fee the porter," he said carelessly, in answer to Tom's look of surprise.[53]
"What for?"
"For bringing up the baggage."
"Twenty-five cents for bringing up two small carpetbags! That's pretty high. I'd have brought them up myself, if I had known," said Tom, dissatisfied, for he felt that this fee was hardly in accordance with his resolutions of economy.
"Oh, he expects it. It's his regular perquisite. When you've traveled more you'll understand."
"How much are we to pay for our accommodations?" asked Tom anxiously.
"About two dollars apiece, I reckon."
"That's more than I can afford," said Tom, alarmed.
"Perhaps it is less, as we room together."
"I hope so, for I can't afford to be extravagant."
"Do you call two dollars a day extravagant?" asked Graham, smiling.
"It is for me. My father is poor."
"Oh, it'll be all right. I'll fix it with the clerk. If you are ready, suppose we go down and have some supper."
To this Tom had no objection. He washed[54] his hands and face, and brushed his hair; then he declared himself ready.
Tom was hungry, and did justice to the supper, which he found very good. As they left the table, and reentered the office of the hotel, Milton Graham said, "I am going to make a call on some friends. Sorry to leave you, but we shall meet later in the evening."
"All right," said Tom.
On the whole he did not regret being alone. He began to doubt whether Graham would make a desirable traveling companion. Tom felt the need of economy, and he saw that his companion would make it difficult. If a fee must be paid, it was fair to divide it; but the porter's fee had come out of Tom's pocket.
"Didn't he have a quarter, I wonder?" thought our hero.
It was a small matter, but economy must begin in small matters, or it is not likely to be practised at all.
He took the opportunity to go to the desk and ascertain the sum likely to be charged for his accommodations.
"How long do you stay?" asked the clerk pleasantly.[55]
"Till to-morrow morning. I am going to sail in the River Belle."
"Then we shall charge you a dollar and a half."
This seemed large to Tom, but he made no objection.
"How much would it have been if I had roomed alone?" he asked.
"The same. We make no change in our terms on that account."
"Mr. Graham told me it would be cheaper to room together."
"He is your roommate, isn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"He is mistaken, so far as our house is concerned. I suppose you have known him for some time."
"No, sir. I met him on the cars yesterday afternoon for the first time."
"Then you don't know anything about him?"
"Oh, yes," answered Tom. "He is the son of a rich merchant in New York."
"Who told you that?"
"He did."
The clerk was a man of middle age. At[56] home he had a son of Tom's age, and this led him to feel a friendly interest in our hero.
"I suppose you have never traveled much," he said.
"No, sir. This is my first journey."
"Are you going far?"
"To California."
"That is a long journey for a boy of your age," said the clerk, looking surprised.
"Yes, sir; but I can't get anything to do at home, and I am going to California to seek my fortune."
"I hope you will be successful," said the clerk, with hearty sympathy. "Will you let me give you a piece of advice?"
"I shall be very glad of it, sir," responded Tom. "I find I am quite inexperienced."
"Then don't trust strangers too readily. It is dangerous."
"Do you refer to Mr. Graham?" asked Tom, startled.
"Yes, I refer to him, or any other chance acquaintance."
"Don't you think he is all right?" asked our hero anxiously.
"I don't think he is the son of a rich merchant in New York."[57]
"Then why should he tell me so?"
Tom was green, and I have no intention of concealing it.
"I can't tell what his designs may be. Did you tell him that you were going to California?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then he will, of course, conclude that you have money. Did you tell him where you keep it?"
"No, sir. I keep it in a belt around my waist."
"You are too ready to tell that, though with me the information is safe. You are to room together. What will be easier, then, for your companion to rob you during the night?"
"I'd better take a room alone," said Tom, now thoroughly alarmed.
"I should advise you to, in most cases, but at present it may be as well to let things remain as they are, as it will save an awkward explanation."
"But I don't want to be robbed."
"We have a safe in the office—there it is—in which we deposit articles of value intrusted to us by our guests. Then we become[58] responsible for them. I advise you to leave your money with us overnight."
"I will," said Tom, relieved. "I shall have to go to my room to remove it."
"Very well. If you have a watch, or any other valuable, it will be well to put those in our charge also."
"No, sir, I have nothing of consequence but the money."
The belt of money was deposited in the safe, and Tom felt relieved. He began to realize for the first time the need of prudence and caution. It had never occurred to him that a nice, gentlemanly-looking man, like Milton Graham, was likely to rob him of his scanty means. Even now he thought there must be some mistake. Still he felt that he had done the right thing in depositing the money with the clerk. The mere thought of losing it, and finding himself high and dry—stranded, so to speak—hundreds of miles from home, made him shudder. On the whole, Tom had learned a valuable, though an unpleasant, lesson. The young are by nature trustful. They are disposed to put confidence in those whom they meet, even for the first time. Unhappily, in a world where there is so much evil as there[59] is in ours, such confidence is not justified. There are too many who make it a business to prey on their fellows, and select in preference the young and inexperienced.
It was only seven o'clock. Tom had a curiosity to see the city of Pittsburg, with whose name he had been familiar. So, after parting with his treasure, he went out for a walk. He did not much care where he went, since all was alike new to him. He ascertained, on inquiry, that Smithfield Street was the principal business thoroughfare. He inquired his way thither, and walked slowly through it, his attention fully occupied by what he saw.