“The waste food in this great ship would feed a hundred hungry wretches like me. Does my presence keep the steamer back a moment of time? No. Well, who is harmed by my trying to better myself in a new world? No one. I am begging for a crust from the lavish plenty, all because I am struggling to be honest. It is only when I become a thief that I am out of danger of starvation—caught or free.” “There, there; now, don’t speak so loud or you’ll have some one here. You hang round and I’ll bring you some provender. What would you like to have? Poached eggs on toast, roast turkey, or—” The wretch sank down at my feet as I said this, and, recognising the cruelty of it, I hurried down into the saloon and hunted up a steward who had not yet turned in. “Steward,” I said, “can you get me a few sandwiches or anything to eat at this late hour?” “Yessir, certainly, sir; beef or ’am, sir?” “Both, and a cup of coffee, please.” “Well, sir, I’m afraid there’s no coffee, sir; but I could make you a pot of tea in a moment, sir.” “All right, and bring them to my room, please?” “Yessir.” In a very short time there was that faint steward rap at the state-room door and a most appetising tray-load was respectfully placed at my service. When the waiter had gone I hurried up the companion-way with much the air of a man who is stealing fowls, and I found my stowaway just in the position I had left him. “Now, pitch in,” I said. “I’ll stand guard forward here, and, if you hear me cough, strike for cover. I’ll explain the tray matter if it’s found.” He simply said, “Thank you, sir,” and I went forward. When I came back the tray had been swept clean and the teapot emptied. My stowaway was making for his den when I said, “How about to-morrow?” He answered, “This’ll do me for a couple of days.” “Nonsense. I’ll have a square meal for you here in the corner of this wheel-house, so that you can get at it without trouble. I’ll leave it about this time to-morrow night.” “You won’t tell any one, any one at all, sir?” “No. At least, I’ll think over the matter, and if I see a way out I’ll let you know.” “God bless you, sir.” I turned the incident over in my mind a good deal that night, and I almost made a resolution to take Cupples into my confidence. Roger Cupples, a lawyer of San Francisco, sat next me at table, and with the freedom of wild Westerners we were already well acquainted, although only a few days out. Then I thought of putting a supposititious case to the captain—he was a thorough gentleman—and if he spoke generously about the supposititious case I would spring the real one on him. The stowaway had impressed me by his language as being a man worth doing something for. Nest day I was glad to see that it was rainy. There would be no demand for ship chairs that day. I felt that real sunshiny weather would certainly unearth, or unchair, my stowaway. I met Cupples on deck, and we walked a few rounds together.