ick Boomsby came up to me. He was dressed in his best clothes,
and he was as good a representative of the idiotic swell as I had ever
met.

"When do you sail, Captain Alick?" he asked, as though the question was
one of vital importance to him personally.

"To-morrow morning, about seven o'clock, unless some change is made in
the arrangements," I replied, wondering what possible interest he could
have in the sailing of the steamer.

"Alick, you and I were always good friends," he continued.

"Not always, though I don't mind that now," I added, not willing that
the exact truth should be sacrificed, even by my silence.

"I am getting a little tired of this place, and I want to be out of it.
I know we didn't always agree when we were little children; but I don't
believe you think of these things now."

"I have not the least ill-will towards you, Nick."

"I am right glad to hear you say so. The old man never will let up on
you, I suppose. But I told him he was a fool, and that he had better
let you alone."

Perhaps it was good advice, but I did not believe he ever gave it to
his father, though he was capable of any disrespect. I waited to learn
what he was driving at, though the fact that he had said he wished he
was going with me on the cruise came to my mind in this connection.

"I am tired of the sort of life I am leading," continued Nick.

"I don't blame you," I added, with the utmost sincerity, though I had
not supposed he had any soarings above the sphere of a bar-tender.

"What can I do? The old man won't let me do anything else beside tend
bar. It is mean business, and I'm bound to get out of it."

I thought Nick's view of the situation was very commendable, though I
did not see how he was to break away from his father, if the latter was
not willing he should do so.

"The only way I can do it is to run away," added Nick.

"I can't advise you to do that," I replied.

"I am eighteen years old, and I am able to take care of myself. The old
man don't give me any wages, and it's hard work for me to get a suit of
clothes out of him when I need it. Which would you rather do if you
were in my place,--sell whiskey, and very likely become a drunkard
yourself, or run away, and become an honest and respectable man?"

It was a hard question, and I declined to answer it, for I was
unwilling to be responsible to any degree for anything that Nick
Boomsby might do. I knew him too well.

"If you will take me to New