Being unfamiliar with San Francisco, Billy did not know
where best to work, but when by accident he stumbled upon
a street where there were many saloons whose patrons were
obviously seafaring men Billy was distinctly elated. What
could be better for his purpose than a drunken sailor?
He entered one of the saloons and stood watching a game
of cards, or thus he seemed to be occupied. As a matter
of fact his eyes were constantly upon the alert, roving, about
the room to wherever a man was in the act of paying for
a round of drinks that a fat wallet might be located.
Presently one that filled him with longing rewarded his
careful watch. The man was sitting at a table a short distance
from Billy. Two other men were with him. As he
paid the waiter from a well-filled pocketbook he looked up to
meet Billy's eyes upon him.
With a drunken smile he beckoned to the mucker to join
them. Billy felt that Fate was overkind to him, and he lost
no time in heeding her call. A moment later he was sitting
at the table with the three sailors, and had ordered a drop
of red-eye.
The stranger was very lavish in his entertainment. He
scarcely waited for Billy to drain one glass before he ordered
another, and once after Billy had left the table for a moment
he found a fresh drink awaiting him when he returned--his
host had already poured it for him.
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