he hand than any other man on the planet."

At this stage or a little later there was an interruption. A waiter near
by said to another waiter, pointing,

"Take a look at that tramp that's coming in. Ain't that the one that
bilked the house, last week, out of ten cents?"

"I believe it is. Let him alone--don't pay any attention to him; wait
till we can get a good look at him."

The tramp approached timidly and hesitatingly, with the air of one
unsure and apprehensive. The waiters watched him furtively. When he was
passing behind Harte's chair one of them said,

"He's the one!"--and they pounced upon him and proposed to turn him over
to the police as a bilk. He begged piteously. He confessed his guilt,
but said he had been driven to his crime by necessity--that when he had
eaten the plate of beans and flipped out without paying for it, it was
because he was starving, and hadn't the ten cents to pay for it with.
But the waiters would listen to no explanations, no palliations; he must
be placed in custody. He brushed his hand across his eyes and said
meekly that he would submit, being friendless. Each waiter took him by
an arm and faced him about to conduct him away. Then his melancholy eyes
fell upon Captain Osborn, and a light of glad and eager recognition
flashed from them. He said,

"Weren't you a midshipman once, sir, in the old 'Lancaster'?"

"Yes," said Osborn. "Why?"

"Didn't you fall overboard?"

"Yes, I did. How do you come to know about it?"

"Wasn't there a new patent machine aboard, and didn't they throw it over
to save you?"

"Why, yes," said Osborn, laughing gently, "but it didn't do it."

"No, sir, it was a sailor that done it."

"It certainly was. Look here, my man, you are getting distinctly
interesting. Were you of our crew?"

"Yes, sir, I was."

"I reckon you may be right. You do certainly know a good deal about that
incident. What is your name?"

"Burton Sanders."

The Captain sprang up, excited, and said,

"Give me your hand! Give me both your hands! I'd rather shake them than
inherit a fortune!"--and then he cried to the waiters, "Let him
go!--take your hands off! He is my guest, and can have anything and
everything this house is able to furnish. I am responsible."

There was a love-feast, then. Captain Osborn ordered it regardless of
expense, and he and Harte sat there and listened while the man told
stirring adventures of his life and fed himself up to the eyebrows. Then
Os