"He had nine bottles and I had three, and 'That's what I call a decent little lunch,' says Dan, 'and it begins to feel more like a holiday; and how is it with you, Jackie boy?'
"I said I felt better, too, and we headed for the main street. By the time we got to the top of the hill—we'd hove-to here and there along the way, of course, with a little sociable drink in each to leave a good name behind us—and by now Dan said he could feel his side-lights burning bright; and as he said it we came abreast of a place with a window all of red glass, to port, and another, all green glass, to starboard. And over the door, shining out from a square box of a lantern, was the sign 'Snug Harbor!'
"Hard-a-lee!' says Dan, and we tacked across the street and fetched up all-standing in front of the door. 'It's a great thing, isn't it, boy, to have a vessel that answers her helm?' says Dan, and leads the way in.
"The first room had a bar running the length of it. Gay times were going on in back somewhere, but, of course, we had to stop and buy a drink or two here by way of showing our good intentions. There was one man behind the bar; but before we could order, another fellow leaves a group near the window and goes behind, too. 'What's your name, mate?' says this one to Dan.
"'I'm Dan Magee o' Skibbaree,' says Dan, and leaps a yard into the air and knocks his heels together, and when he comes down pulls a bill from his roll and throws it on the bar.
"'I thought so. I'm from Skibbaree myself. I knew your father.'
"'Then you're from a place I never heard of before this last minute,' says Dan. 'But if you did know my father you knew a good man, a better man than ever you were—or will be,' says Dan, 'and if you want to dispute it 'tis his son will prove it to you. And if you think you can come any of your come-all-ye's over me, you're mistaken. I'll be thanking you for the change of that ten-dollar bill,' says Dan.
"'A ten-dollar bill?' says the bartender, and opens one hand and says: 'Why, no—see—a dollar bill.'
"'You don't tell me now!' says Dan, and reaches over and with a twist of his fingers opens the bartender's other hand, and there was the ten-dollar bill. And he takes it and tucks it away, and doing that he lets him have another look at the roll of bills he had with him.
"'My private opinion of you,' says Dan, 'I'd hate publicly to express it, 'specially in the presence of these honorable gentlemen here,' and he points to the four or five hard-looking tickets, who had left the window and were now crowding up close. 'But you don't want to be making the mistake of thinking because a man rolls a bit in the wind that he's carrying more sail than he ought. I've seen 'em, lad, with their hatches under; but let your wheel fly and up they'd come like a spinning top. It's the ballast, lad, they have—the ballast—and don't make any mistake—if I feel like swinging all I got, the ballast's there to hold me up to it,' and with that he turns and drives his foot through the swinging-doors and into the next room with almost a flying leap. I stops to pay for the drinks and then follows Dan; but before I got through I heard one of the loafers say: 'And did you see that wild man's pile?' And I says to myself: 'If we get out of here alive, we're lucky.'