a pause. Then, raising his stick in the air, The Other Man perorated:
"Now, I have no wish to quarrel" (and he put his nose nearer to mine),
"you know that, of course. But to _think_ we can do without sugar is
quite unreasonable, and I had no idea you were such a cantankerous man.
We have sugar, or--I go back."

* * * * *

We had sugar. It was brought on board in upwards of twenty small packets
of that detestable thin Chinese paper, and The Other Man, with
commendable meekness, withdrew several pleasantries he had unwittingly
dropped anent deficiencies in my upbringing. Fifty pounds of this sugar
were ordered, and sugar--that dirty, brown sticky stuff--got into
everything on board--my fingers are sticky even as I write--and no less
than exactly one-half went down to the bottom of the Yangtze. Travelers
by houseboat on the Upper Yangtze should have some knowledge of
commissariat.

Getting away was a tedious business.

Later, the fellows pressed us to spend a good deal of time in the small,
dingy, ill-lighted apartment they are pleased to call their club; and
the skipper had to recommission his boat, get in provisions for the
voyage, engage his crew, pay off debts, and attend to a thousand and one
minute details--all to be done after the contract to carry the madcap
passengers had been signed and sealed, added to the more practical
triviality of three-fourths of the charge being paid down. And then our
captain, to add to the dilemma, vociferously yelled to us, in some
unknown jargon which got on our nerves terribly, that he was waiting for
a "lucky" day to raise anchor.