to reward you for faithful service. I
had planned to do this in my will, but I feel so healthy lately I think
I'll live a long time yet, and there isn't any real sense in keeping you
waiting. What is the book valuation of the Ricks L. & L. stock?"

"Three hundred eighty-seven thirteen, according to the last annual
report," replied Skinner glibly. His eyes glistened.

"And the Blue Star stock?"

"Four hundred thirty-two twenty-seven."

"Hump! Harump-h-h! It will be worth more when the Panama Canal is
opened. We'll have a crack at the Atlantic Seaboard market with our
Pacific Coast lumber, and the water freight will knock the rail rate
silly. Besides, I'm going to buy up a couple of large freighters, or
build them, and that stock of yours will pay dividends then. I'll
soak you four hundred per share for the Blue Star stock. Is that
satisfactory?"

Nobody knew better than Mr. Skinner the fact that the Blue Star stock at
the book valuation was appraised very conservatively. He nodded.

"Lumber market's up and down, down and up, and we never know where we
stand. Give you that at two-fifty a share. Want it?"

"I should say I do!" Skinner gasped.

"Then you owe me sixty-five thousand dollars. I'll take your promissory
note for it at five per cent., and you can pay the note out of your
salary and the dividends. You'll be in the clear in ten years at the
very latest; the stock I'm selling you now will be worth a hundred
thousand--with your management. Here's the contract, which embodies a
promissory note. Sign it, endorse the stock to me to secure the payment
of the note, and then clear out of here. Not a peep out of you, sir, not
a peep. If you say 'Thank you' I'll change my mind about selling."

Mr. Skinner's hand trembled a little as he wrote his name across the
backs of the stock certificates and appended the same clear, concise
signature to the note. Silently he wrung Cappy's hand.

"Get out," rasped Cappy. Mr. Skinner got out.

CHAPTER XXXIII. CAPPY'S PLANS DEMOLISHED

Four more months passed, and peace reigned in the offices of the Blue
Star Navigation Company. Matt Peasley's name had never been mentioned in
Mr. Skinner's presence since that dark day when he had ventured, for
the first time in his career, to lay down the law to Cappy Ricks. The
pick-handle still reposed behind Skinner's desk, but that was merely
because he had forgotten all about it, and nobody ever touched any
of his property without