he door.

"He means his stomach," said a stern but youthful voice which the
unhappy seaman knew only too well. He turned smartly and saw the face of
Henry peering over the partition, and beside it the grinning countenance
of Dick.

"He was on our ship this afternoon," continued his youthful tormentor as
he scrambled still higher up the partition, and getting one arm over,
pointed an accusing finger at Sam, who had been pushed back into his
seat. "We gave him a lovely dinner, an' arter he'd eat it he went off on
the quiet in one of our chaps' clothes."

"That's right, mates," said the delighted Dick, nodding at the audience.

"One of our chaps named Sam," went on Henry--"one of the best an'
kindest 'earted chaps that ever breathed."

"Regular brick he is," assented Dick.

"Fine, big 'ansome man, he is," said Henry, "and this chap's got his
clothes on."

The customers gazed sternly at Sam as he sat open-mouthed listening to
these fulsome but untimely praises. In every gathering there is sure to
be one or two whose self-imposed mission it is to right wrongs, and one
of this type present at once suggested returning the clothes to the
rightful owner. His suggestion was adopted with enthusiasm, and a dozen
men closed round the hapless Sam.

"Outside, gentlemen, please," said the barmaid hastily.

They went out in a cluster, the stout seaman in the centre fighting like
a madman, and nearly overturning three soldiers who were passing. Two of
them were named Murphy and one O'Sullivan, and the riot that ensued took
three policemen and a picket to subdue. Sam, glad of a chance to get
away, only saw the beginning of it, and consumed by violent indignation,
did not pause until he had placed half a dozen streets between himself
and the scene of his discomfiture.

He had no intention of breaking faith with the cook, but he had a pint
and thought that circumstances justified it. Then he walked slowly up
and down the street a little while, debating whether he should continue
the search or return to the schooner. For a time he str