Now, what's the prize for the best answer to all this?"
To his intense surprise Thomas felt himself lifted by the collar and
dragged, without a word of explanation, to the front door. This was
opened, and he was kicked forcibly down the steps with one heavy,
disillusionizing, humiliating impact of the stupendous Arabian's shoe.
As soon as the ex-coachman had recovered his feet and his wits he
hastened as fast as he could eastward toward Broadway.
"Crazy guy," was his estimate of the mysterious automobilist. "Just
wanted to have some fun kiddin', I guess. He might have dug up a dollar,
anyhow. Now I've got to hurry up and get back to that gang of bum bed
hunters before they all get preached to sleep."
When Thomas reached the end of his two-mile walk he found the ranks of
the homeless reduced to a squad of perhaps eight or ten. He took the
proper place of a newcomer at the left end of the rear rank. In a file
in front of him was the young man who had spoken to him of hospitals and
something of a wife and child.
"Sorry to see you back again," said the young man, turning to speak to
him. "I hoped you had struck something better than this."
"Me?" said Thomas. "Oh, I just took a run around the block to keep warm!
I see the public ain't lending to the Lord very fast to-night.
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