On the steamboat wharf there was a building used for the storage of goods. Just as I was about to go down the steps at the foot of which the Splash lay, with the row-boats made fast to her, a lame man came out of the warehouse, and hailed us.
"What do you want?" he demanded, in no conciliatory tones.
"I want this boat," I replied.
"You can't have her," he added, decidedly.
"Why not?"
"Because you can't."
"That doesn't seem to be a very good reason," I answered, descending the steps, and jumping into the Splash.
"Do you hear what I say?" demanded he, in savage tones.
"I do; I am not deaf, and you speak loud enough to be heard," I added, as I proceeded to remove the stops from the mainsail, preparatory to hoisting the sail.
"Are you going to mind what I say, or not?" he shouted, in loud tones.