He was in due time landed at the Astor House. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and he had had nothing to eat since breakfast. But for the cigar, he would have had a hearty appetite. As it was, he felt faint, and thought he should relish some tea and toast. He made his way, therefore, to a restaurant in Fulton street, between Broadway and Nassau streets. It was a very respectable place, but at that time in the afternoon there were few at the tables. Sam had forty cents left. He found that this would allow him to buy a cup of tea, a plate of beefsteak, a plate of toast, and a piece of pie. He disposed of them, and going up to the desk paid his bill. Again he found himself penniless. "I wonder where I am going to sleep," he thought. "I guess I'll ask some boot-blacks where they live. They can't afford to pay much." The tea made his head feel better; and, though he was penniless, he began to feel more cheerful than an hour before. He wandered about till he got tired, leaning against a building sometimes. He began to feel lonely. He knew nobody in the great city except Clarence Brown, whom he did not care to meet again, and the boot-black whose acquaintance he had made the day before. "I wish I had some other boy with me," thought Sam; "somebody I knew. It's awful lonesome." Sam was social by temperament, and looked about him to see if he could not make some one's acquaintance. Sitting on the same bench with him--for he was in City Hall Park--was a boy of about his own age apparently. To him Sam determined to make friendly overtures. "What is your name, boy?" asked Sam. The other boy looked round at him. He was very much freckled, and had a sharp look which made him appear preternaturally old. "What do you want to know for?" he asked. "I don't know anybody here. I'd like to get acquainted." The street boy regarded him attentively to see if he were in earnest, and answered, after a pause, "My name is Tim Brady. What's yours?" "Sam Barker." "Where do you live?" "Nowhere," said Sam. "I haven't got any home, nor any money." "That's nothing!" said Tim. "No more have I." "Haven't you?" said Sam, surprised. "Then where are you going to sleep to-night?" "I know an old wagon, up an alley, where I can sleep like a top." "Aint you afraid of taking cold, sleeping out of doors?" asked Sam, who, poor as he had always been, had never been without a roof to cover him. "Take cold!" repeated the boy, scornfully. "I aint a baby. I don't take cold in the summer." "I shouldn't think you could sleep in a wagon." "Oh, I can sleep anywhere," said Tim. "It makes no difference to me where I curl up." "Is there room enough in the wagon for me?" asked Sam. "Yes, unless some other chap gets ahead of us." "May I go with you?" "In course you can." "Suppose we find somebody else ahead of us." "Then we'll go somewhere else. There's plenty of places. I say, Johnny, haven't you got no stamps at all?" "Stamps!"