f themselves.

I strolled down the narrow companionway, into a cosy, but somewhat
cramped, saloon.

After standing for a time in the hope of seeing some signs of life, I
pushed open the door of a stateroom on the starboard side. The room
had two berths. I tossed my knapsack and clubs into the lower one. As
I turned to the door again, I espied a diminutive individual, no more
than four and a half feet tall,--or, as I should say, small,--in the
full, gold-braided uniform of a ship's chief steward.

He was a queer-looking little customer, grizzled, weather-beaten and,
apparently, as hard as nails. He was absolutely self-possessed and,
despite his stature, there was "nothing small about him," as an
American friend of mine used to put it.

He touched his cap, and smiled. His smile told me at once that he was
an Irishman, for only an Irishman could smile as he did. It was a
smile with a joke, a drink, a kiss and a touch of the devil himself in
it.

"I saw ye come down, sor. Ye'll be makin' for Glasgow?"

Glasgow! I cogitated, yes!--Glasgow as a starting point would suit me
as well as anywhere else.

"Correct first guess," I answered. "But, tell me,--how did you know
that that was my destination?"

He showed his teeth.

"Och! because it's the only port we're callin' at, sor. Looks like a
fine trip north," he went on. "The weather's warm and there's just
enough breeze to make it lively. Nothin' like the sea, sor, for
keepin' the stomach swate and the mind up to the knocker."

I yawned, for I was dog-weary.

"When ye get to Glasgow, if ye are on the lookout for a place to
slape,--try Barney O'Toole's in Argyle Street. The place is nothin' to
look at, but it's a hummer inside, sor."

I yawned drowsily once more, but the hint did not stop him.

"If you'll excuse my inquisitiveness, sor,--or rather, what ye might
call my natural insight,--I judge you're on either a moighty short
tour, or a devil av a long one got up in a hurry."

The little clatterbag's uncanny guessing harried me.

"How do you arrive at your conclusions?" I asked, taking off my jacket
and hanging it up.

"Och! shure it's by the size av your wardrobe. No man goes on a
well-planned, long trip with a knapsack and a bag av golfsticks."

"Well,--it is likely to be long enough," I laughed ruefully.

"Had a row with the old man and clearin' out?" he sympathised. "Well,
good luck to yer enterprise. I did the same meself when I was
t