To make another excursion, and explain, it may be as well to let Pappenhausen talk. There were two Germans in the Mill, and both worked in the Planing Shed. One was a man of no account, a shuffling, weak-kneed, weak-eyed, lager-beer Hans, with as much brains as would have qualified him to be Heir Apparent to some third-rate Teutonic Opera-House Kingdom. But Pappenhausen was a Man, that is to say, he didn't compromise on Lager or weep because he drank too much. And he could work like three, and he wasn't the German kind as regards courage. German courage is very fine and fierce when the Teutons are in a majority, but when they aren't their courage ranks as the finest discretion, that is, as cowardice nine times out of ten. Pappenhausen would fight anyone or any two any time and any where. He could fight with fists or a spanner, or a pickareen or a club, and he took some satisfying. He was an amazing man, had been in America thirty years. He said he was a "Galifornian" and fought you if you didn't believe it. Once he stood up to Quin and was knocked galley-west, for besides Long Mac there wasn't a man in Saw-Mill Town that could tackle the Boss. Quin got a black eye, but Papp had two and lay insensible for an hour. Quin was so pleased with that, that he put him to work again and stood him drinks. He actually did. After that Papp, as he was called, stood up for, and not to, George Quin, and said he was a man, and he asked what it mattered if he did run after the klootchmen? "Dat's der Teufel," grunted the native "Galifornian," "dat's der Teufel, we all run avder der klootchmen, if we don'd avder trink. I'm a philozopher, I, and I notizzes dat if it arn'd one ding it's anoder. And no one gan help it, boys. One man he run avder dollars, screamin' oud for dollars, and if you zay a dollar ain'd wort' von 'ondred cents of drubble he tink you grazy. I zay one dollar's wort' of rest wort' a dollar and a half any day. On'y I cain'd help workin'. If I don'd I feel I braig somedings mit mein hands. Oders run avder klootchmen; if dey don'd dey feels as if dey would also braig somedings. I tinks the welt a foolish blace, but in Shermany (where my vater game from) I dinks it most foolish. And Misder Guin he run avder Pete's klootchman and bymby Pete gill her as like as nod and then Mr. Guin very sorry he spoke. I dell you I knows. Life is a damn silly choke, boys." But it was (and is) only a joke to a Democritus of Papp's type. Even Papp said:-- "Bymby I ged a new sood of glose and fifdy dollars and I go back home to California." He said it and had said it. "Bymby----" Poor Papp!