They fell to work quickly, stripping themselves to their undershirts; they manned the hoists, seized trucks and bale-hooks, and began their tasks with a thoroughly non-union energy. Some of them were still so drunk that they staggered, their awkwardness affording huge sport to their companions, yet even in their intoxication they were surprisingly capable. There was a great deal of laughter and disorder on every hand, and all made frequent trips to the water-taps, returning adrip to the waist, their hair and beards bejewelled with drops. Boyd saw one, a well-dressed fellow in a checked suit, remove his clothes and hang them carefully upon a nail, then painfully unlace his patent-leather shoes, after which, regardless of the litter under foot and the splinters in the floor, he tramped about in bare feet and red underwear. Without exception, they seemed possessed by the spirit of boys at play. Having seen them well under way and the winches working, George sought out Boyd and proudly inquired: "What do you think of them, eh?" "They are splendid. But where are the others?" "Well, there are two or three that won't be able to get around at all." He meditatively stroked the knuckles of his right hand, which were badly bruised. "But the balance will be here to-morrow. These are just the mildest-mannered ones--the family men, you might say. The others will show up gradual. You see, if there had been any fighting going on here, I'd have got most of them right off the bat, but there wasn't any inducement to offer except hard work, so they wasn't quite so anxious to commence." "Humph! There ought to be enough excitement before long to satisfy any one," said Boyd, with a trace of worry in his voice. "As sure as you're a foot high!" exclaimed George, hopefully. "It's the only way we'll get that ship loaded on time. All we need is a riot or two." A man passed them trundling a heavy truck, but seeing Big George, he paused, wiped the sweat from his face, then grinned and winked fraternally. "Hey! If this work is too heavy for you, why don't you quit?" growled Balt, but strangely enough the fellow took no offence. Instead, he closed his swollen eye for a second time, then spat upon his hands, and, as he struggled with his burden, grunted pleasantly: "I pretty near--got you, Georgie. If you hadn't 'a' ducked, we'd 'a' been at it yet, eh?" Balt smiled in turn, then gingerly felt of the knob behind his ear. "Did you have a fight with him?" queried Emerson. "Not exactly a fight, but he put this nubbin on my conch," answered the fisherman. "He's a tough proposition, one of the best we've got." "What was the trouble?" "Nothing! I used to have to lick him every year. We've sort of missed each other lately." "Then you were merely renewing a pleasant acquaintance?" laughed the younger man. "He hit you in the mouth too, I see." "No, I got that from a stranger. I was bedding him down when he kicked me with his boot. He ain't here this morning."'