Mr. Skinner discovered he had no further excuse for remaining
away from the office, in consequence of which the latter decided to
return to San Francisco on the Quickstep. This for several very good
reasons: The food on the Quickstep was better than the food on the
regular liner, the accommodations were fully as good, the vessel was
loaded deeply and would ride steadily--and Mr. Skinner and his bride
would travel without charge.

The sight of the Skinners coming aboard was not a pleasing one to Matt
Peasley. He did not like Mr. Skinner well enough to care to eat at the
same table with him, and he bethought him now of all the mean, nagging
complaints of the past six months. In particular he recalled Mr.
Skinner's instructions to him anent the carrying of dead-head
passengers--and suddenly he had a brilliant idea. He sent for his
wireless operator and ordered him to send this message:

Blue Star Navigation Company, San Francisco, Cal.

Please accept my resignation as master of your steamer Quickstep, said
resignation to take effect immediately upon my arrival in San Francisco.
Kindly have somebody on hand to relieve me.

Matthew Peasley.

Matt had just remembered that his six months in the Quickstep were up.
His next move was to call on the steward.

"Go into Stateroom 7," he ordered, "and collect fifteen dollars from
that man and woman in there. They came aboard without tickets."

Two minutes later the steward was back with word that the passengers in
question were dead-heads, being none other than the manager of the Blue
Star Navigation Company and his wife.

"Steward, you go back and tell that man Skinner that Captain Peasley
never carries any dead-heads on the Quickstep. Tell him that when
Captain Peasley wants to carry a guest he pays the guest's passage out
of his own pocket."

"But he'll fire me, sir."

"Do as I order; he will not fire you. I'm the only man that has that
privilege, and I'll exercise it if you don't obey me."

Two more minutes elapsed; then Mr. Skinner presented himself at the
captain's stateroom.

"Peasley," he said sharply, "what nonsense is this?"

"No dead-heads on this ship, Mr. Skinner. Your own orders, sir. Fifteen
dollars, if you please. You're not my guests."

"Of course," said Mr. Skinner, "I shall do nothing of the sort."

"Then get off the ship."

"Sir, are you crazy?"

"No, I am not; I'm just disgusted with you. Fifteen dollars here and now
before I cast off the l