wn for a couple of years."

"Well, that sounds reasonable, Matt."

"Yes, I'll admit there's some justice in his contention, so I'm going to
do it to please him, although I hate to have him think I'm a dog-barking
navigator."

"Why, what's that?" Florry demanded.

"A dog-barking navigator is a coastwise blockhead that gets lost if he
loses sight of land. He steers a course from headland to headland, and
every little while on dark nights he stands in close and listens. Pretty
soon he hears a dog barking alongshore. 'All right,' he says to the
mate; 'we're off Point Montara. I know that Newfoundland dog's barking.
He's the only one on the coast. Haul her off and hold her before the
wind for four hours and then stand in again. When you pick up the bark
of a foxhound you'll be off Pigeon Point.'"

Florry's laughter drowned a further description of the dog-barking
navigator's wonderful knowledge of Pacific Coast canines, and after some
small talk Matt said good-bye and hung up. When he left the telephone
booth, however, he was a happier young man than when he had entered it,
for he had now satisfied himself that while Cappy Ricks might arrogate
to himself the right of proposing, his daughter could be depended upon
to attend to the disposing. He went to his boarding house, paid his
landlady, packed his clothes and sent them down to the Gualala, rubbing
her blistered sides against Howard Street Pier No. 1. At seven o'clock
next morning he was aboard her and at seven-five he superintended the
casting off of the stern lines and his apprenticeship in steam had
commenced.

CHAPTER XXVII. PROMOTION

Cappy Ricks was in a fine rage. A situation, unique in his forty years
of experience as a lumber and shipping magnate, was confronting him,
with the prospects exceedingly bright for Cappy playing a role
analogous to that of the simpleton who holds the sack on a snipe-hunting
expedition. He summoned Mr. Skinner into his private office, and glared
at the latter over the rims of his spectacles. "Skinner," he said
solemnly, "there's the very devil to pay."

Mr. Skinner arched his eyebrows and inclined a respectful ear. Cappy
continued:

"It's about the Hermosa. Skinner, that dog-barking navigator you put in
that schooner while I was on my vacation has balled us up for fair. I'll
be the laughing-stock of the street."

Parenthetically it may be stated that the Blue Star Navigation Company's
schooner, Hermosa, had cleared fro