Ralph sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was shining and the car empty, with the exception of himself and a negro brakeman, who had awakened him from an unusually sound slumber. "Where are we?" he asked. "We'se in Savanny. Been yere nigh 'bout an hour. I seed yo' was tired, an' I 'lowed I'd let yer sleep. But I'se got ter sweep out now." When Ralph emerged from the depot he found himself on a sandy unpaved street, with many half shabby frame houses about and a number of tall pines in the distance. He followed a line of trucks and drays towards the business part of the city, and presently dropped into a cheap eating house for breakfast. 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." "Oh! Dat all is it?" The porter had found it hard to reconcile Ralph's appearance with any other connection with a guest of the hotel than a menial one. "Yo' go right up to de office over dar and gin it to the clerk. He see Cap'n Gary gits um." "But--but I have to see the captain myself," urged Ralph. "What yo' reckon a gen'lemun like he wanter sech a boy as you? Huh?" Ralph felt that his clothes were against him, but he did not propose to be bullied by a servant and a negro at that. "Look here," said he. "I want to see Captain Gary and I'm going to see him, too. I've got business with him--d'ye understand?" "Well den," replied the porter insolently, "s'posen yo' find where he is yo'self." Ralph, without another word, marched straight to the clerk's desk. CHAPTER X. The Captain Talks With Ralph. Ralph's previous diffidence disappeared under the flush of anger aroused by the porter's words.