a bitter fight. The
more eager friends of H. B. No. 33 accused him of treachery, but
many felt that it was the best possible practical politics under the
circumstances. For weeks the issue hung in doubt, but gradually James
gathered adherents among both progressives and conservatives. It became
almost a foregone conclusion that H. B. No. I7 would pass.

CHAPTER 15

"Old Capting Pink of the Peppermint,
Though kindly at heart and good,
Had a blunt, bluff way of a-gittin' 'is say
That we all of us understood.

When he brained a man with a pingle spike
Or plastered a seaman flat,
We should 'a' been blowed but we all of us knowed
That he didn't mean nothin' by that.

I was wonderful fond of old Capting Pink,
And Pink he was fond o' me,
As he frequently said when he battered me head
Or sousled me into the sea."
--Wallace Irwin.

BULLY GREEN PRESERVES DISCIPLINE AND THE REBEL LEARNS TO SAY "SIR"

Part 1

On the night of the twenty-second of December Jeff left the _World_
building and moved down Powers Avenue to the all night restaurant he
usually frequented. The man who was both cook and waiter remembered
afterwards that Farnum called for coffee, sausage, and a waffle.

Before the editor left the waffle house it was the morning of the
twenty-third. He had never felt less sleepy. Nor did a book and a pipe
before his gas log seem quite what he wanted. The vagabond streak in him
was awake, the same potent wanderlust that as a boy had driven him to
the solitude of the forests and the hills. This morning it sent him
questing down Powers Avenue to that lower town where the derelicts of
the city floated without a rudder.

A cold damp mist had crept up from the water front and enwrapped the
city so that its lights showed like blurred moons. Some instinct took
him toward the wharves. He could hear the distant cough of a tug as
it fussed across the bay, and as he drew near the big Transcontinental
wharves of Joe Powers the black hulk of a Japanese liner rose black out
of the gray fog shadow. But the freighters, the coasters, tramps that
went hither and thither over the earth wherever fat cargoes lured
them--they were either swallowed in the mist or shadowed to a ghost-like
wraith of themselves so tenuous that all detail was lost in the haze.

Jeff leaned on a pile and let his imagination people the harbor with
the wandering children of