"I don't see why he couldn't have brought you aboard inside of them,"
said the captain's son.

And the police lieutenant said nothing, though he turned the clothes
over somewhat sheepishly to their rightful owner.

The next day, when Alf started to go ashore, he found himself surrounded
by shouting and gesticulating, though very respectful, sampan men, all
extraordinarily anxious to have him for a passenger. Nor did the one
he selected say, "You pay now," when he entered his boat. "When Alf
prepared to step out on to the pier, he offered the man the customary
ten sen. But the man drew himself up and shook his head.

"You all right," he said. "You no pay. You never no pay. You bully boy
and all right."

And for the rest of the _Annie Mine's_ stay in port, the sampan men
refused money at Alf Davis's hand. Out of admiration for his pluck and
independence, they had given him the freedom of the harbor.




WHOSE BUSINESS IS TO LIVE


Stanton Davies and Jim Wemple ceased from their talk to listen to an
increase of uproar in the street. A volley of stones thrummed and boomed
the wire mosquito nettings that protected the windows. It was a hot
night, and the sweat of the heat stood on their faces as they listened.