"I am a seaman," he replied at last.
"You're a liar!" said Michael, which in that stratum of society is no more considered, even by those who are not passivists, as a call for the mailed fist than, in another, is "Pardon me—have you verified that?"
"I'm tellin' ye," said Mike.
"Let me see your discharges then," demanded Michael.
Mike tossed his head with an air of "This man bores me," tossed it to right, and from left breast pocket drew forth a folded bundle of Board of Trade discharges, and held them up.
"Huh!" grunted Michael. "Cattleman."
"Seaman I'm tellin' ye," Mike repeated.
"What are you a-going over as a cattleman for, then?" asked Michael.
"I'm tellin' ye I have some seaman discharges among theyse."
"Well then, you're a cattleman!"