to tackle single-handed, though, eh, boh?"

Something of the same thought was passing through Peter's mind but he
only smiled.

"I'll find a job," he said slowly.

"Waitin'!" sneered Coast. "Fine job that for a man with your learnin'.
'Hey, waiter! Some butter if you please,'" he satirized in mincing
tones, "'this soup is cold--this beef is underdone. Oh, _cawn't_ you
give me some service here!' I say, don't you hear 'em--people that never
saw a servant in their own home town. Pretty occupation for an old war
horse like me or a globe-trotter like you. No. None for me. I'll fry my
fish in a bigger pan. _Allons!_ Pete. I like you. I'll like you more
when you grow some older, but you've got a head above your ears that
ain't all bone. I can use you. What d'ye say? We'll get ashore, some
way, and then we'll show the U. S. A. a thing or two not written in the
books."

"We'll go ashore together, Jim. Then we'll see."

"Righto! But I'll eat my hat if I can see you balancin' dishes in a
Broadway Chop House."

Peter couldn't see that either, but he didn't tell Jim Coast so. Their
hour on deck had struck, for a final meal was to be served and they went
below to finish their duties. That night they were paid off and
discharged.

The difficulties in the way of inspection and interrogation of Peter
Nichols, the alien, were obviated by the simple expedient of his going
ashore under cover of the darkness and not coming back to the ship--this
at a hint from the sympathetic Armitage who gave the ex-waiter a
handclasp and his money and wished him success.

Midnight found Peter and Jim Coast on Broadway in the neighborhood of
Forty-second Street with Peter blinking comfortably up at the electric
signs and marveling at everything. The more Coast drank the deeper was
his cynicism but Peter grew mellow. This was a wonderful new world he
was exploring and with two thousand dollars safely tucked on the inside
of his waistcoat, he was ready to defy the tooth of adversity.

In the morning Peter Nichols came to a decision. And so over the coffee
and eggs when Coast asked him what his plans were he told him he was
going to look for a job.

Coast looked at him through the smoke of his cigar and spoke at last.

"I didn't think you'd be a quitter, Pete. The world owes us a
livin'--you and me----Bah! It's easy if you'll use your headpiece. If
the world won't give, I mean to take. The jobs are meant for little
men."

"What are you going