e from him about
goin' back to Paris to die. Gee, but this wind is fierce, ain't it? Say,
Bud, but d'y' b'lieve that some people, especially women, that they know
without bein' told when people they think a lot of is in danger?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"M-m--sometimes I think there's something in it. Did you notice the look
in her eyes to-night? But--" the red lamp of the Port Light saloon
loomed brightly ahead--"it's a pretty cold night--a toothful o'
something, what d'y' say?"

"Nope."

"Then where you bound?"

"I don't know--take a walk, I guess."

"Well, you sure picked a fine night for a walk. Better lash your ears to
your head, if you're heading for the beach-side. Be back this way
soon?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? What's got into you to-night, Bud?" Baldwin stared at
his chum. He stepped nearer and laid a hand on Harty's arm. "You ain't
sick, Bud?"

"God, no! I'm all right. I'll take a walk and come back."

"All right, but hurry back, won't you?"

IV

The Port Light saloon was doing a fine business. The swinging doors
between the backroom and the bar were swinging all the time--and at the
various tables a score of young men and a dozen or so of young women,
and one stout fellow at the piano, were roaring dull care away.

The piano occupied one corner of an alcove off the large backroom. In
the other corner of the alcove Baldwin and a few friends were sitting
into a quiet little game. Things had been breaking well for the sailor,
and it promised to be a blissful night, for when luck came his way in a
poker game, Baldwin could fall into a trance, if nobody disturbed him.

It was Hatty who came bursting through the swinging doors to disturb
him. One peek at his chum's face and "O Lord!" murmured Baldwin, "still
on it." Aloud he added, "Sit in, Bud," and Harty sat in, after first
ordering a round of drinks.

Baldwin lifted his drink. "Fell off that water-wagon kind o' sudden,
didn't you, Bud," but without even a curious glance emptied his glass.

Four or five hands were played, and, luck still running the sailor's
way, he was smiling like a moonlit sea, when, "Say, Baldy," shook him
out of his revery.

"Lord, Bud! What?"

"A hell of a fine bunch we are."

"Fine how?"

"To be spending our Christmas here."

"Why, where else would we be?"

"Where but home?"

Baldwin smiled broadly. "Say, Bud, I don't see you logging any
record-breaking runs for home.

"Blast it!--I've got n