ic ethics that he had
to thump Petey, and he growled: "I'll give you all the talking back
you want, you big stiff. I'm getting through to-night. I'm going to
Panama."

"No, straight, is dat straight?"

"That's what I said."

"Well, dat's fine, boy. I been watching yuh, and I sees y' wasn't cut
out to be no saloon porter. I made a little bet with meself you was
ejucated. Why, y'r cuffs ain't even doity--not very doity. Course you
kinda need a shave, but dem little blond hairs don't show much. I seen
you was a gentleman, even if de bums didn't. You're too good t' be a
rum-peddler. Glad y're going, boy, mighty glad. Sit down. Tell us
about it. We'll miss yuh here. I was just saying th' other night to
Mike here dere ain't one feller in a hundred could 'a' stood de
kiddin' from an old he-one like me and kep' his mout' shut and grinned
and said nawthin' to nobody. Dat's w'at wins fights. But, say, boy,
I'll miss yuh, I sure will. I get to be kind of lonely as de boys drop
off--like boozers always does. Oh, hell, I won't spill me troubles
like an old tissy-cat.... So you're going to Panama? I want yuh to sit
down and tell me about it. Whachu taking, boy?"

"Just a cigar.... I'll miss you, too, Petey. Tell you what I'll do.
I'll send you some post-cards from Panama."

Next noon as the S.S. _Panama_ pulled out of her ice-lined dock Carl
saw an old man shivering on the wharf and frantically waving
good-by--Petey McGuff.

CHAPTER XVI

The S.S. _Panama_ had passed Watling's Island and steamed into
story-land. On the white-scrubbed deck aft of the wheel-house Carl sat
with his friends of the steerage--sturdy men all, used to open places;
old Ed, the rock-driller, long, Irish, huge-handed, irate, kindly;
Harry, the young mechanic from Cleveland. Ed and an oiler were
furiously debating about the food aboard:

"Aw, it's rotten, all of it."

"Look here, Ed, how about the chicken they give the steerage on
Sunday?"

"Chicken? I didn't see no chicken. I see some sea-gull, though. No
wonder they ain't no more sea-gulls following us. They shot 'em and
cooked 'em on us."

"Say," mused Harry, "makes me think of when I was ship-building in
Philly--no, it was when I was broke in K. C.--and a guy----"

Carl smiled in content, exulting in the talk of the men of the road,
exulting in his new blue serge suit, his new silver-gray tie with no
smell of the saloon about it, finger-nails that were growing pink
again--and the sun