, which could not but be worse than the morning's? And on the
impulse of the moment he made up his mind.

He walked straight on to the schoolyard gate and passed out. Here his
worshipers halted in wonderment, but he kept on to the corner and out of
sight. For some time he wandered along aimlessly, till he came to the
tracks of a cable road. A down-town car happening to stop to let off
passengers, he stepped aboard and ensconced himself in an outside corner
seat. The next thing he was aware of, the car was swinging around on its
turn-table and he was hastily scrambling off. The big ferry building stood
before him. Seeing and hearing nothing, he had been carried through the
heart of the business section of San Francisco.

He glanced up at the tower clock on top of the ferry building. It was
ten minutes after one--time enough to catch the quarter-past-one boat.
That decided him, and without the least idea in the world as to where he
was going, he paid ten cents for a ticket, passed through the gate, and
was soon speeding across the bay to the pretty city of Oakland.

In the same aimless and unwitting fashion, he found himself, an hour
later, sitting on the string-piece of the Oakland city wharf and leaning
his aching head against a friendly timber. From where he sat he could
look down upon the decks of a number of small sailing-craft. Quite a
crowd of curious idlers had collected to look at them, and Joe found
himself growing interested.

There were four boats, and from where he sat he could make out their
names. The one directly beneath him had the name _Ghost_ painted in large
green letters on its stern. The other three, which lay beyond, were called
respectively _La Caprice_, the _Oyster Queen_, and the _Flying Dutchman_.

Each of these boats had cabins built amidships, with short stovepipes
projecting through the roofs, and from the pipe of the _Ghost_ smoke
was ascending. The cabin doors were open and the roof-slide pulled
back, so that Joe could look inside and observe the inmate, a young
fellow of nineteen or twenty who was engaged just then in cooking. He
was clad in long sea-boots which reached the hips, blue overalls, and
dark woolen shirt. The sleeves, rolled back to the elbows, disclosed
sturdy, sun-bronzed arms, and when the young fellow looked up his face
proved to be equally bronzed and tanned.

The aroma of coffee arose to Joe's nose, and from a light iron pot came
the unmistakable smell of beans nearl