"'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.' "The other room was a big room with sand on the floor, a bar and a barmaid to one side, and a counter to the other with a man behind it opening oysters. There were small tables at one end and men and women sitting to them drinking. The men were mostly seafaring hoboes, foolish lumpers, and deck-swabs--from off steamers, most likely. There was a man to the bar, and I didn't see who he was at first, he being almost hid between a big-bellied stove; but Dan spotted him right away. 'Will you look at our bold skipper!' whispers Dan--'and his wife not buried a year yet.' I takes another look and sees that so it was, and that he was talking a fourteen-knot clip to the barmaid. "'Good evening, captain,' says Dan. The skipper turns, screws up his face, says 'Howdy' at last, and turns to the barmaid again.