ore foolishness."

"But--but," he protested, "it's not so radical as that, is it? You're
not going to overturn such time-worn, time-honored customs as that?
Why, this is a regular rebellion."

"No, sire," quoted Travis, trying not to laugh, "it is a revolution."

Chapter III

Although Monday was practically a holiday for the Sunday-supplement
staff of "The Times," Condy Rivers made a point to get down to the
office betimes the next morning. There were reasons why a certain
article descriptive of a great whaleback steamer taking on grain for
famine-stricken India should be written that day, and Rivers wanted his
afternoon free in order to go to Laurie Flagg's coming-out tea.

But as he came into his room at "The Times" office, which he shared
with the exchange and sporting editors, and settled himself at his
desk, he suddenly remembered that, under the new order of things, he
need not expect to see Travis at the Flaggs'.

"Well," he muttered, "maybe it doesn't make so much difference, after
all. She was a corking fine girl, but--might as well admit it--the
play is played out. Of course, I don't love her--any more than she
loves me. I'll see less and less of her now. It's inevitable, and
after a while we'll hardly even meet. In a way, it's a pity; but, of
course, one has to be sensible about these things. . . . Well, this
whaleback now."

He rang up the Chamber of Commerce, and found out that the "City of
Everett," which was the whaleback's name, was at the Mission Street
wharf. This made it possible for him to write the article in two ways.
He either could fake his copy from a clipping on the subject which the
exchange editor had laid on his desk, or he could go down in person to
the wharf, interview the captain, and inspect the craft for himself.
The former was the short and easy method. The latter was more
troublesome, but would result in a far more interesting article.

Condy debated the subject a few minutes, then decided to go down to the
wharf. San Francisco's water-front was always interesting, and he
might get hold of a photograph of the whaleback. All at once the
"idea" of the article struck him, the certain underlying notion that
would give importance and weight to the mere details and descriptions.
Condy's enthusiasm flared up in an instant.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed; "by Jove!"

He clapped on his hat wrong side foremost, crammed a sheaf of
copy-paper into his pocket, and was on th