Amongst so many gods Michael
felt bewildered, while Steward's Abrahamic bosom became more than ever
the one sure haven where harshness and danger never troubled.

"Mind your step," is the last word and warning of twentieth-century city
life. Michael was not slow to learn it, as he conserved his own feet
among the countless thousands of leather-shod feet of men, ever hurrying,
always unregarding of the existence and right of way of a lowly, four-
legged Irish terrier.

The evening outings with Steward invariably led from saloon to saloon,
where, at long bars, standing on sawdust floors, or seated at tables, men
drank and talked. Much of both did men do, and also did Steward do, ere,
his daily six-quart stint accomplished, he turned homeward for bed. Many
were the acquaintances he made, and Michael with him. Coasting seamen
and bay sailors they mostly were, although there were many 'longshoremen
and waterfront workmen among them.

From one of these, a scow-schooner captain who plied up and down the bay
and the San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers, Daughtry had the promise of
being engaged as cook and sailor on the schooner _Howard_. Eighty tons
of freight, including deckload, she carried, and in all democracy Captain
Jorgensen, the cook, and the two other sailors, loaded and unloaded her
at all hours, and sailed her night and day on all times and tides, one
man steering while three slept and recuperated. It was time, and double-
time, and over-time beyond that, but the feeding was generous and the
wages ran from forty-five to sixty dollars a month.

"Sure, you bet," said Captain Jorgensen. "This cook-feller, Hanson,
pretty quick I smash him up an' fire him, then you can come along . . .
and the bow-wow, too." Here he dropped a hearty, wholesome hand of toil
down to a caress of Michael's head. "That's one fine bow-wow. A bow-wow
is good on a scow when all hands sleep alongside the dock or in an anchor
watch."

"Fire Hanson now," Dag Daughtry urged.

But Captain Jorgensen shook his slow head slowly. "First I smash him
up."

"Then smash him now and fire him," Daughtry persisted. "There he is
right now at the corner of the bar."

"No. He must give me reason. I got plenty of reason. But I want reason
all hands can see. I want him make me smash him, so that all hands say,
'Hurrah, Captain, you done right.' Then you get the job, Daughtry."

Had Captain Jorgensen not been dilatory in his contemplated smash