ouncer for this
organization? G'wan! Go tell him yourself!"

We had quite an argument over it too, with Peter K. chimin' in on my
side; but, while the chappy insists that it's my job to fire the old
hooker off the anchorage, I draws the line at interferin' with anything
beyond the shore. Course, it might spoil the effect; but the way it
struck me was that we didn't own any more of Long Island Sound than
anyone else, and I says so flat.

That must have been how the boss of the old sloop felt about it too; for
he don't pay any attention to the howls or threats. He just makes things
snug and then goes below and starts pokin' about in his dinky little
cabin. Judgin' by the motions, he was gettin' a late supper.

Anyway, they couldn't budge him, even though half the club was stewin'
about it. And, someway, that seemed to tickle Chunk and me a lot. We
watched him spread his grub out on the cabin table, roll up his sleeves,
and square away like he had a good appetite, just as if he'd been all by
himself, instead of right here in the midst of so many flossy yachtsmen.

He even had music to eat by; for part of the programme was the turnin'
loose of one of these high priced cabinet disk machines, that was on the
Commodore's big schooner, and feedin' it with Caruso and Melba records.
There was so much chatterin' goin' on around us on the verandas, and so
many corks poppin' and glasses clinkin', that the skipper must have got
more benefit from the concert than anyone else. At last he wipes his
mouth on his sleeve careful, fills his pipe, and crawls out on deck to
enjoy the view.

It was well worth lookin' at too; for, although there was most too many
clouds for the moon to do much execution, here was all the yachts lighted
up, and the clubhouse blazin' and gay, and the water lappin' gentle in
between. He gazes out at it placid for a minute or so, and then we see
him dive down into the cabin. He comes back with something or other that
we couldn't make out, and the next thing I knows I finds myself keepin'
time with my foot to one of them lively, swingin' old tunes which might
have been "The Campbells Are Coming" or might not; but anyway it was
enough to give you that tingly sensation in your toes. And it was
proceedin' from the after deck of that old hulk.

"Well, well!" says I. "Bagpipes!"

"Bagpipes be blowed!" says Chunk. "That's an accordion he's playing.
Listen!"

Say, I was listenin', and with both ears. Also other fo