Alf felt himself grow hot all over at the hateful words "pay now." "You
take me to American schooner; then I pay," he said.

But the man stood up patiently before him, held out his hand, and said,
"Ten sen. You pay now."

Alf tried to explain. He had no money. He had lost his purse. But he
would pay. As soon as he got aboard the American schooner, then he would
pay. No; he would not even go aboard the American schooner. He would
call to his shipmates, and they would give the sampan man the ten sen
first. After that he would go aboard. So it was all right, of course.

To all of which the beneficent-appearing old man replied: "You pay now.
Ten sen." And, to make matters worse, the other sampan men squatted on
the pier steps, listening.

Alf, chagrined and angry, stood up to step ashore. But the old fellow
laid a detaining hand on his sleeve. "You give shirt now. I take you
'Merican schooner," he proposed.

Then it was that all of Alf's American independence flamed up in his
breast. The Anglo-Saxon has a born dislike of being imposed upon, and to
Alf this was sheer robbery! Ten sen was equivalent to six American
cents, while his shirt, which was of good quality and was new, had cost
him two dollars.

He turned his back on the man without a word, and went out to the end of
the pier, the crowd, laughing with great gusto, following at his heels.
The majority of them were heavy-set, muscular fellows, and the July
night being one of sweltering heat, they were clad in the least possible