belonged, and he was almost frothin' at the
mouth.

"Talk about your society folks!" says he. "Why,--blankety blank 'em!--I
can go down the Rialto any afternoon, pick up a dozen people at
twenty-five a week, drill 'em four days, and give a better imitation than
this crowd ever thought of putting up!"

"Yes; but look who you are, Chunk," says I.

"I know," says he.

And he meant it too. He always was about the cockiest little rooster in
the business; but I'd rather expected eight or ten years of ups and downs
in the theatrical game, bein' thrown out of the trust and crawlin' back
on his knees would have tempered him down some.

You couldn't notice it, though. In fact, this chesty, cocksure attitude
seemed to have grown on him, and it was plain that most of his soreness
just now come from findin' himself in with a lot of folks that didn't
take any special pains to admit what a great man he was. So, as him and
me was sort of left to flock by ourselves, I undertook the job of
supplyin' a few soothin' remarks, just for old time's sake. And that's
how it was he got rung in on this little mix-up with Cap'n Spiller.

You see, the way the committee had mapped it out, part of the doin's was
a grand illumination of the fleet. Anyway, they had all the craft they
could muster anchored in a semicircle off the end of the float and
trimmed up with Japanese lanterns. Well, just about time for lightin' up,
into the middle of the fleet comes driftin' a punk lookin' old sloop with
dirty, patched sails, some shirts and things hangin' from the riggin',
and a length of stovepipe stickin' through the cabin roof. When the
skipper has struck the exact center, he throws over his mud hook and lets
his sail run.

Not bein' posted on the details, I didn't know but that was part of the
show, until the chairman of my committee comes rushin' up to me all
excited, and points it out.

"Oh, I say, McCabe!" says he. "Do you see that?"

"If I didn't," says I, "I could almost smell it from here. Some new
member, is it?"

"Member!" he gasps. "Why, it's some dashed old fisherman! We--we cawn't
have him stay there, you know."

"Well," says I, "he seems to be gettin' plenty of advice on that point."
And he was; for they was shoutin' things at him through a dozen
megaphones.

"But you know, McCabe," goes on the chairman, "you ought to go out and
send him away. That's one of your duties."

"Eh?" says I. "How long since I've been official marine b