te," he said to the others, as he dragged on his
trousers.

A shaggy young Swede near the door was already dressed.

"I vill go," he said. "You don't bother," and forthwith slipped out.

The others were looking at him now, glancing with a queer, sharp
interest and turning away when they met his eyes. It was as though he
were a stranger.

"That was a queer thing last night," he said to the nearest.

"Yes," the other agreed, with a kind of haste.

They sat about at their meal, when the coffee had been brought by the
volunteer, under the same constraint. He could not keep silent; he
had to speak and make them answer.

"Where is he?" he asked abruptly.

"On de gratings," he was told. And the Swede who fetched the coffee
added, "Sails is sowin' him up now already."

"We'll see the last of him to-day," said Slade. "He won't kick nobody
again!"

There was a mutter of agreement, and eyes turned on Conroy again.
Slade smiled slowly.

"Yes, he keeck once too many times," said the Greek.

The shaggy young Swede wagged his head. "He t'ink it was safe to kick
Conroy, but it aindt," he observed profoundly. "No, it aindt safe."

"He got vat he asked for. . . . Didn't know vat he go up againdst
. . . No, it aindt--it aindt safe. . . Maybe vi'sh he aindt so handy
mit his feet now."

They were all talking; their mixed words came to Conroy in broken
sentences. He stared at them a little wildly, realizing the fact that
they were admiring him, praising him, and afraid of him. The blood
rose in his face hotly.

"You fellers talk," he began, and was disconcerted at the manner in
which they all fell silent to hear him--"you talk as if I'd killed
him."

"Well! . . . Ach was!"

He faced their smiles, their conciliatory gestures, with a frown.

"You better stop it," he said. "He fell--see? He fell an' stove his
head in. An' any feller that says he didn't----"

His regard traveled from face to face, giving force to his challenge.

"Ve aindt goin' to say nodings!" they assured him mildly. "You don't
need to be scared of us, Conroy."

"I'm not scared," he said, with meaning. "But look out, that's all."

When breakfast was over, it was his turn to sweep up. But there was
almost a struggle for the broom and the privilege of saving him that
trouble. It comforted him and restored him; it would have been even
better but for the presence of Slade, sitting aloft in his bunk,
smiling over his pipe with malicious understanding.