“Huh,” mused Abe. “Here it’s actin’ like mid-July, an’ in a couple o’ weeks I’ll be back in May again, with the trees jes’ comin’ into full leaf an’ the lilacs hardly done bloomin’ in the dooryards.” “When’ll ye be leavin’?” asked McCann. “We’ve got ’most a cargo now, an’ if ye were ready by tomorrer, say, I might get ye a berth an’ a chance to earn yer board loadin’ wood fer the engines.” Abe thanked him. “First of all,” said he, “I want to see Tad out o’ this scrape. An’ second, I’ve got to keep my partner, Allen Gentry, from gittin’ _into_ one, when he sells his goods. After that I’d be pleased to ship with you.” As they parted from McCann at the gangplank of the _Ohio Belle_, the little Irishman pointed to Poke, snoring comfortably at the end of his chain on deck. “See,” he laughed, “the little spalpeen is right at home. I’ll give ye three dollars fer him.” Tad considered a moment. He could hardly hope to keep the cub with him, either in the city or at school, while with McCann he knew the little bear would be in good hands. “Right,” he answered regretfully, and the transaction was completed, then and there. As the boy trudged along at Abe’s side, he pulled the money out of his pocket. “Here,” said he, “this’ll pay for those pants, Abe. And anyway, the bear was really yours. You saved his life and then wrestled for him.” “No sech of a thing!” said Abe warmly. “That b’ar b’longed to you.” But Tad was adamant, and his big friend finally took the money, on condition that he should buy them both a supper out of it. Accordingly they stopped at the next tavern and ordered a meal. The table at which they sat was at the rear of the sanded floor near one end of the bar. A cosmopolitan throng of sailors and up-river men were drinking and quarreling noisily along the mahogany rail, and Tad watched them while Abe picked the bones of his fricasseed chicken. Suddenly, in the crowd, he caught sight of a familiar back and saw a hand filled with banknotes waving in the air. “Quick, Abe!” said the boy. “Isn’t that Allen with all that money?” The long-shanked backwoodsman turned, pushing back his chair, and looked where Tad was pointing. At that moment a big German sailor reached over the heads of the eager fellows who surrounded Allen, seized his wrist with one hand, and snatched away the bills with the other. It was all done so quickly that none of the men at the bar knew what had happened, and Allen was left speechless, his empty fingers clawing at the air. Then Abe entered the picture. In three long strides he reached the sailor, who was just edging toward the door. The man’s back was toward him. Abe caught him by the shoulder with iron fingers and jerked him around. And almost in the same motion he drove a solid smash to the fellow’s chin with his right fist.