I passed the
Jefe myself on the City Hall steps, and heard him b-r-r-ring like a
dynamo. Then I went down to the harbour.
The _Harvest Moon_ lay rolling a half mile out. I took a
rowboat and rowed out. When I drew near, I saw Sadler standing by the
rail with the black nozzle of a hose pipe pushed forward, and shading
his eyes against the glint of the water. When he saw it was me he
took me aboard. But he was thoughtful and depressed. He sat himself
on the rail and dangled his boots over the water and described his
state of mind.
"What makes a man act so?" he says. "There's my fellow-man. Look at
him! I'm sorry for him. Most of him had hard luck to be born, and yet
when he gets in my way I just walk all over him. I can't help it.
He's leathery and he's passive, my fellow-man. He goes to sleep in
the middle of the road. When I ketch one of him, I kicks a hole in
his trousers first, and then it occurs to me, 'My sufferin' brother!
This is too bad!' Why, Pete Hillary was one of the dumbdest and
leatheriest, and here's the Mayor's pink sojers been fillin' me with
joy and sorrow, till I laughed from eleven till twelve, and been
sheddin' tears ever since.
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