ve that work is the
crowning shame and humiliation of the human race. It's all right for a
horse or a dog or an ox to work, but a man ought to be above it. It's
degrading, interferes with his pleasures and wastes his time."

"I feel the same way," agreed Owen, "but somebody has got to work to
make shoes and food for us."

"Yes," admitted the sailor, "regretfully there will always have to be
some work done, and I'm sorry for the poor guys that must do it. But
there's been too much work done."

"Those sentiments are very noble," said Owen.

"It's all very fine to worry about your fellow man. But you would like
to have plenty of money even if the rest of the world is fool enough
to keep on working."

"I suppose so," said the sailor, "but I'm a reformer and my business is
to talk, not work."

"That's just what we want you to do," said Owen and Hicks in answer.

Then they found a table in the rear of a saloon where they could unfold
their plan.

Boyd was to be introduced to a foolish young girl who had a barrel of
money. He was to tell her a deep-sea yam along certain lines, and Owen
and Hicks would take care of the rest.

"The question is," said Owen, "whether you can talk and act like a sort
of reformed pirate."

"Leave that to me," he assured them, and led the way out of the saloon
and into still another grimy and disreputable place. It was Axel
Olofsen's pawnshop and second-hand general supply and clothing store.

After much pawing over ancient, worn and rusty weapons, Boyd was at
last fitted out. Ole was paid about sixty per cent of what he asked
and left to the enjoyment of his Scandinavian melancholy.

"You look like a pirate now, sure enough," said Owen, observing Boyd's
effect on the driver of the taxicab.

"I look it, but I don't quite feel it yet," said Boyd, with deep
meaning. "There is something lacking."

"What can it be?" asked Hicks.

"About three fingers of red-eye," the sailor explained, pointing to a
saloon. "That will make my disguise just perfect."

In the saloon Hicks and Owen made a little map, wrinkled it and soiled
it on the floor, then gave it to the pirate.

"Tell her," said Owen as he called for a taxi, "that it is only a copy
of your original, which is all worn out."

The nearer they approached to the house the more talkative became the
"pirate." He demanded to know more details of what was to be done, and
finally assumed an air of authority.

"You say that rich