Mike's gone," said Mae seriously. "It's been three days now."
"About a week after you left the docks, Jim, the foreman stopped picking him for work," cried Sara. "I went to stay with my brother. There wasn't room for Mike, so he's been sleeping in Central Park." Sara looked straight at Jim. "He said he was going to do some work for you. We were going to meet last night, but Mike never came."
Silently, Mae pointed at the jar that contained their money. Jim nodded. "Listen, Sara, you and Mae go and get something for the baby's cough."But Sara was crying. "Something's wrong. I know it is!"
Jim moved toward the front door. "I'll go and find him."
Hours later, Jim entered Central Park. As the sun sank, he knew that the enormous park wasn't as empty as it looked. Since the Crash of 1929, tens of thousands of New Yorkers were living in cars, or on the streets, or in the subway. A lot of people had started living in Central Park. Some of them built huts or tents from any materials they could find. Others slept wherever they could.
They ate any food they could find or catch or steal.
Jim had heard that there had been a lot of sheep in Central Park. Most had been moved away. Now, as he searched for Mike, Jim saw park workers guiding the last sheep into enormous wagons. Jim watched until a policeman on a horse waved at him to move away.