siness?" I asked, as Mr.
Magoon ceased.

Sully shook his head.

"Denver married an auburn-haired widow that owns a big hotel in
Harlem. He just helps around the place."

XIX

WHISTLING DICK'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING

It was with much caution that Whistling Dick slid back the door of
the box-car, for Article 5716, City Ordinances, authorized (perhaps
unconstitutionally) arrest on suspicion, and he was familiar of old
with this ordinance. So, before climbing out, he surveyed the field
with all the care of a good general.

He saw no change since his last visit to this big, alms-giving,
long-suffering city of the South, the cold weather paradise of the
tramps. The levee where his freight-car stood was pimpled with dark
bulks of merchandise. The breeze reeked with the well-remembered,
sickening smell of the old tarpaulins that covered bales and
barrels. The dun river slipped along among the shipping with an oily
gurgle. Far down toward Chalmette he could see the great bend in the
stream, outlined by the row of electric lights. Across the river
Algiers lay, a long, irregular blot, made darker by the dawn which
lightened the sky beyond. An industrious tug or two, coming for
some early sailing ship, gave a few appalling toots, that seemed to
be the signal for breaking day. The Italian luggers were creeping
nearer their landing, laden with early vegetables and shellfish. A
vague roar, subterranean in quality, from dray wheels and street
cars, began to make itself heard and felt; and the ferryboats, the
Mary Anns of water craft, stirred sullenly to their menial morning
tasks.

Whistling Dick's red head popped suddenly back into the car. A sight
too imposing and magnificent for his gaze had been added to the
scene. A vast, incomparable policeman rounded a pile of rice sacks
and stood within twenty yards of the car. The daily miracle of the
dawn, now being performed above Algiers, received the flattering
attention of this specimen of municipal official splendour. He
gazed with unbiased dignity at the faintly glowing colours until,
at last, he turned to them his broad back, as if convinced that
legal interference was not needed, and the sunrise might proceed
unchecked. So he turned his face to the rice bags, and, drawing
a flat flask from an inside pocket, he placed it to his lips and
regarded the firmament.

Whistling Dick, professional tramp, possessed a half-friendly
acquaintance with this officer. They had met se