ail. A successful revolutionist. So why not add
him to your list? Write up the America _he_ knows." There was a
challenge in Joe's voice.

"All right, perhaps I will," I said. At least I had him talking now.
"Come out to lunch and tell me some more."

"I don't want any lunch."

Something in the way he said that made me look at him quickly. He
appeared to me now not only thin but tense and rather feverish. His
nerves were plainly all on edge. He had smoked one cigarette after
another.

"I've got a lot of work to-day," he added restlessly. "Not only these
damn letters to write--I've got to make up our paper besides--it goes to
the printer to-morrow. Here, take a copy with you."

And he handed me the last week's issue. It was a crude and flimsy
affair, with its name, in scarehead letters, "WAR SURE." I glanced it
over in silence a moment. What a drop for Joe, from what he had been, to
this wretched violent little sheet, this muckraker of the ocean world.

"Not like the harbor _you_ painted," he said.

"No," I answered shortly.

"Do you want another look at your harbor?"

I eyed him for a moment:

"All right--I'll look----"

"Fine business." He had risen now, and a gleam of the old likable Joe
came for a moment into his eyes.

"Meet me to-morrow at seven a. m. And let's look at some of its
failures," he said.

CHAPTER V

"Did you see him?" Eleanore asked that night.

"Yes--I saw him----"

I could feel her waiting, but I could not bring myself to talk. Eleanore
wouldn't like J. K. She wouldn't like what I had told him I'd do. I was
sorry now that I had, it was simply looking for trouble. I damned that
challenge in Joe's voice. Why did he always get hold of me so?

"How did he look? Is he much changed?" Eleanore asked me quietly.

"Yes. He looks half sick--and old. He's been through a good deal," I
answered.

"Did he talk about that?"

"Yes"--I hesitated--"and of what he wants to show me," I said. Eleanore
looked quickly up.

"Are you going to see him soon again?"

"Yes--to-morrow morning--to have a look at his stoker friends. I want to
have just one good look at the life that has made him what he is. That's
all--that's all it amounts to----"

There was another silence. Then she came over behind my chair and I felt
the cool quiet of her hand as she slowly stroked my forehead.

"You look tired, dear," she said.

* * * * *

Just before daylight the next