his permission. Not once had Matt Peasley's
cheerful countenance darkened the Skinner horizon.

This, then, was the condition of affairs when the office boy carried
to Mr. Skinner a piece of disquieting information--to wit, that Captain
Matt Peasley was without and desired to hold speech with Mr. Ricks.

"Tell him Mr. Ricks is too busy to see him," Skinner ordered. Not having
heard anything of Matt for six months he concluded that the latter's
affair with the boss' daughter had languished and died a natural death;
hence he felt that he could defy Matt with impunity. Judge of his
surprise, therefore, when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder later
and Matt Peasley stood glaring down at him.

"Well, sir!" said Skinner coolly.

"I heard you had a pick-handle waiting here for me," Matt replied
evenly, "so I just dropped in to tell you that if you ever pull a
pick-handle on me I'll take it away from you and ram it down your
throat. That's all I have to say to you, Mr. Skinner. If, the next time
I call, at Mr. Ricks' invitation, to see him, you intercept my message
and try to block my game--"

The great Peasley hand closed over Mr. Skinner's neck and felt of it
tentatively.

"Ouch!" gasped Mr. Skinner.

"Admit the brother," Matt called to an imaginary sentry behind Cappy's
door. "He has given the password. The lodge has been duly opened and we
are now ready for business."

He smiled at Mr. Skinner and passed on into Cappy Ricks' office.

"Well, Matt," the latter hailed him pleasantly, "it's been a long time
since I've seen you in this office."

"And it'll be a long time till you see me here again, sir," Matt
retorted pleasantly. "I was about to call on you when your message
reached me. So suppose you tell me your business first. Then I'll tell
you mine."

"No, you won't, Matt," Cappy challenged him, "because hereafter you're
not going to have any business unless I have a finger in it too. Matt,
my son, do you recall the day you quit the Quickstep?"

"With pleasure," Matt assured him whimsically.

"You're vindictive; but no matter. Skinner declared you should never
again command a Blue Star ship while he was in my employ, and I said,
by George, that was right--you shouldn't. I said I was going to make
you our port captain, and eventually place you in charge of the shipping
after I had broken you in."

"I have a curiosity, sir, to know why you didn't go through with that
program."

"Skinner wouldn't let me