"You put one over on me that time—but just wait."
CHAPTER XIII
RINGING IN
Why the fat Mr. Schmidt from Chicago wanted to go to a dance was a problem that Sam made no serious effort to solve, for in a modern day when neither fat nor age nor bodily infirmity checks the universal human impulse it was of little avail to seek the motive in a given case. You simply go and dance—or think you do—and that's an end of it, with no questions asked.
The dancing-desires of the fat grain-broker from Chicago had taken him from the American mainland to Wellesley Island, a passage safely accomplished aboard the Fifty-Fifty. And when Schmidt had been set ashore at the wharf-entrance to a hotel-property that blazed with light Sam backed a little way into the river and made fast to a handy mooring.
Boats by the dozen, churning in from all directions passed close to the dingy launch. They were freighted with people, much dressed and wholly abandoned to laughter and chatter.
The boatman watched the procession with close attention. It had a cheering effect upon his loneliness.
"No sense to it—but why should there be?" he reflected. "If it's not dancing it's something else just as crazy. I don't blame 'em. I say, go to it; yes, even Schmidt."
"Doll up and walk like a duck while the band plays. It's easy and foolish, and if you do it wrong everybody tries to imitate the new step. Far be it from me to complain. On with the dance!"
Besides, Schmidt paid in cash and paid well—and Sam was not a boatman for his health.