d the sleeping man,
holding his head a little on one side, whistling softly, and stepping
backwards to get a good perspective, but always with contemplative good
humor, as if Catron were a work of art, which he (the captain) had
created, yet one that he was not yet entirely satisfied with. Then he
put a large pea-jacket over his flannel blouse, dragged a Mexican
serape from the corner, and putting it over his shoulders, opened the
cabin door, sat down on the doorstep, and leaning back against the
door-post, composed himself to meditation. The moon lifted herself
slowly over the crest of Deadwood Hill, and looked down, not unkindly,
on his broad, white, shaven face, round and smooth as her own disc,
encircled with a thin fringe of white hair and whiskers. Indeed, he
looked so like the prevailing caricatures in a comic almanac of
planets, with dimly outlined features, that the moon would have been
quite justified in flirting with him, as she clearly did, insinuating a
twinkle into his keen, gray eyes, making the shadow of a dimple on his
broad, fat chin, and otherwise idealizing him after the fashion of her
hero-worshiping sex. Touched by these benign influences, Captain Dick
presently broke forth in melody. His song was various, but chiefly, I
think, confined to the recital of the exploits of one "Lorenzo," who,
as related by himself,--

"Shipped on board of a Liner,
'Renzo, boys, Renzo,"--

a fact that seemed to have deprived him at once of all metre, grammar,
or even the power of coherent narration. At times a groan or a
half-articulate cry would come from the "bunk" whereon Roger Catron
lay, a circumstance that always seemed to excite Captain Dick to
greater effort and more rapid vocalization. Toward morning, in the
midst of a prolonged howl from the captain, who was finishing the
"Starboard Watch, ahoy!" in three different keys, Roger Catron's voice
broke suddenly and sharply from his enwrappings:--

"Dry up, you d--d old fool, will you?"

Captain Dick stopped instantly. Rising to his feet, and looking over
the landscape, he took all nature into his confidence in one
inconceivably arch and crafty wink. "He's coming up to the wind," he
said softly, rubbing his hands. "The pills is fetchin' him. Steady
now, boys, steady. Steady as she goes on her course," and with another
wink of ineffable wisdom, he entered the cabin and locked the door.

Meanwhile, the best society of Sandy Bar wa