Once there, the man of the world—who, unlike the needy knife-grinder, had a story—told it. After getting on the boat, Spring Chicken had been taking mint with sugar and something; and he took it once too often. Seeing this, the worldling tried to get him forward to his state-room; but, as we passed the fort, a jolly passenger, who had also taken mint, waved his hat at the fortification and cried out:
"Hurrah for Muggins!"
Spring Chicken stopped, balanced himself on his heels and announced with much dignity—
"Sir, I am Muggins!"
"Didn't know you, Muggins," responded the shouter, who fortunately had not taken fighting whisky. "Beg pardon, Muggins! Hurrah for Peacock! Yah—a-h!"
"See here, my good fellow, I'm Peacock!" repeated Spring Chicken.
"The thunder you are! You can't be two people!"
"Sir!" responded Spring Chicken, with even greater dignity, "I do not—hic—desire to argue with you. I am Peacock!"
The man laughed. "The Peacock I mean is a northern man——"
"I'm a northern man," yelled the now irate Spring Chicken. "Curse you, sir! what are my principles to you? I'll cut your ear off!" And it was this peaceful proposition that attracted our attention, in time to prevent any trouble with the ugly knife he drew from his back.