And the ladder creaked, and Sadler came over the side. He steppedsoft and long like a ghost.

"How do?" he says, and sat down, and twankled his banjo.

Then I asked, "Why? What for?" I says, "I don't look at it," I says. "Itain't reasonable." It sometimes was well enough for a flamingo, but a man hasresponsibilities. It's not right for him to be a floating objectthat's no such thing. He's got no business to be impossible, unlesshe explains himself. I stated that opinion beautiful sharp, but Sadlerwas calm.

"Irish hooked the _Harvest Moon_" he says, "and lay outside forthe steamer. I jumped overboard."

"Changed your mind?"