Hungry, I wouldn't wonder.

Wanted to h'ist 'em fur a glass o' grog an' a night's lodgin', but Cap wouldn't let him--said you'd be back and might help him.

Wasn't that it, Cap ?"--this to the landlord, who nodded in reply.
"How could _I_ help him ?" asked Harry, selecting a tallow dip from a row on a shelf, but in a tone that implied his own doubt in the query, as well as his relief, now that the man was really a stranger.
"Well, this is your port, so I 'ear.

Some o' them high-flyers up 'round the park might lend a hand, may be, if you'd tip 'em a wink, or some o' their women folks might take a shine to 'em." "Looked hungry, did you say ?" Harry asked, lighting the dip at an oil lamp that swung near the bar.
"Yes--holler's a drum--see straight through him; tired too--beat out.
You'd think so if you see him.

My play--clubs." Harry turned to the landlord: "If this man comes in again give him food and lodging," and he handed him a bank bill.