Tom Gordon was not only brave, but he was modest; and he hurried away from the swarming crowd as soon as he was free of the ferry-boat, for he found it anything but pleasant to be looked upon and treated as a lion.

Turning off into one of the intersecting streets, the two lads walked along in silence, when Tom said,-- "Do you know, Jim, I'm half-frozen ?" The rattling teeth emphasized the question.
"I should think you would be.

Here's a place of some kind; let's go in and have something to eat, and you can warm yourself." Jim led the way; and as he pushed open the green-baize doors, which worked on springs, he saw they had entered one of those nondescript shops, so numerous in certain parts of New York, where a person can obtain any kind of alcoholic drink, a cigar, a lunch, a "square meal," or a night's lodging, or all.
Jim recognized the resort, and he would have withdrawn but through sympathy for his shivering companion.

The latter could scarcely stand from cold, his clothing was soaked, and, in the keen air, had congealed so that it rattled like tarpauling as he walked.
Just back from the door was a large stove, whose bulging, white-washed cylinder, gleamed red with heat.
Tom immediately stepped up to this and began to thaw himself out.
"Ah, that feels nice!" he laughed to his companion.
"Well, young man, what do you want in here ?" asked the bartender, in a sharp, business-like style, bustling from behind the counter with the evident intention of "bouncing" the lads.
"I want to get dry and warm," was the reply of Tom, from whose clothing the steam was beginning to ascend.
"This ain't a shop to dry out boys.

Why don't you go home ?" "We haven't any home." "That's played; go where you stayed last night." "That's near a hundred miles from here." Two or three loungers laughed at the rather pert style in which Tom made his replies, though in truth the lad meant no disrespect.