Municipal--that's the Mayor--fell into his warmest temper, and sent
a company of pink soldiery of the City Guard in the morning, packed
close in a tugboat. Then Sadler led them seaward, where the gale was
blowing from the northwest and the seas piled past the harbour; so
most of the pink soldiers were seasick, not being good mariners, and
the gale standing the tugs on their beam-ends, which was no sort of
place for a City Guard. They came back unhappy. The _Harvest
Moon_ was in again, and now anchored in the harbour. I passed the
Jefe myself on the City Hall steps, and heard him b-r-r-ring like a
dynamo. Then I went down to the harbour.

The _Harvest Moon_ lay rolling a half mile out. I took a
rowboat and rowed out. When I drew near, I saw Sadler standing by the
rail with the black nozzle of a hose pipe pushed forward, and shading
his eyes against the glint of the water. When he saw it was me he
took me aboard. But he was thoughtful and depressed. He sat himself
on the rail and dangled his boots over the water and described his
state of mind.

"What makes a man act so?" he says. "There's my fellow-man. Look at
him! I'm sorry for him. Most of him had hard luck to be born, and yet
when he gets in my way I just walk all over him. I can't help it.
He's leathery and he's passive, my fellow-man. He goes to sleep in
the middle of the road. When I ketch one of him, I kicks a hole in
his trousers first, and then it occurs to me, 'My sufferin' brother!
This is too bad!' Why, Pete Hillary was one of the dumbdest and
leatheriest, and here's the Mayor's pink sojers been fillin' me with
joy and sorrow, till I laughed from eleven till twelve, and been
sheddin' tears ever since. Irish's been three times around his rosary
before he got the scare kinks out of him, and between Irish bein'