dangerous to let him go on drinking. There was no
telling what he might do. He looked from Shorty, who was trying to stop
his nose-bleed, to the broken glasses on the floor.

"I guess you haf enough alretty yet," he growled.

Armitage struck the table viciously.

"Don't stand chinning there!" he shouted. "Bring some booze on the
double quick, or it'll be the worse for you!"

With a helpless shrug of his shoulders, Schmalz went after more liquor.
Shorty, partly recovered from the knock-out, staggered painfully to his
feet and made for the door, followed by "Dutch" and Bill. When he
reached the threshold, the defeated fireman turned and shook his fist at
Armitage.

"Yer'll be sorry for this, 'Handsome'!" he shouted. "I'll get even with
ye afore the day's out."

Armitage shrugged his shoulders by way of answer, and the three men
slouched out. As Shorty passed Schmalz in the outer store, he said to
the German in an undertone:

"Look out for him, d'ye hear? He's a bad 'un. He's not to be trusted!"

Jerking his thumb significantly in the direction of the cash-drawer, he
whispered:

"He'd as soon cut your throat as not--for what ye've got there."

Schmalz turned pale. Shorty went on:

"I've got an account to square with him. Give him all the whiskey he
wants. Keep him here until we can get back to the steamer. They'll come
and nab him. Serve him right. He's better out of yer way."

"Ya-ya!" exclaimed Schmalz nervously, "But mach schnell, eh?"

The men hurried away, leaving their irate shipmate to his own
reflexions. For a long time after their departure there reigned a
perfect quiet, which seemed all the more intense by contrast with the
recent turmoil. Schmalz, busy at his desk, absorbed in the arduous task
of disentangling his accounts, gave no heed to his quarrelsome customer,
who, now that the immediate cause of his irritation was removed, was
inclined to be more amiable. His sullenness of manner disappeared and he
seemed even willing to argue amicably with his host the merits of the
recent affray. Schmalz paid no attention, yet the fireman talked on. It
wasn't his fault, he insisted. Shorty had called him names, and he
wouldn't stand that from any man. He knew what he was about. Flesh and
blood simply couldn't stand that stoke-hold any longer. Only the last
trip, one of the men collapsed under the strain. Seized with "stoker's
madness," he had rushed to the deck and jumped overboard. He'd had
enough of suc