he
present, Matt," Cappy retorted dryly. "The unfortunate devil does not
pay! You do, Matt. I should worry!"

"But you can help me save something from the wreck!" Matt pleaded
desperately. "It's going to clean me of my last dollar to make good with
you on my charter, even if Morrow & Company do not make good with me on
theirs; and--"

Cappy Ricks held up his hand.

"My dear boy," he said with maddening calm, "listen to me! I had a hunch
this would happen. As a matter of fact, I declined to charter to Morrow
& Company direct ten days before you came prancing in with your head
all swelled up with a brand-new idea for making a lot of easy money in
a hurry. Me charter to them--me!" In his superb scorn Cappy waxed
ungrammatical. "I should kiss a pig! Why, if sawmills were selling
for six bits each I wouldn't trust that concern with a hatful of
sawdust--not that they weren't honest and capable, but they haven't got
any money to speak of any more!"

"But--but--Why, dad burn it, sir, you said it was perfectly agreeable to
you to have me charter the Tillicum to them!" Matt roared, angry, hurt
and amazed.

"Why should I worry what you do? I have all I can do to attend to my own
business. Why should I tell you yours?"

"But--"

"No ifs or buts, Matt. I played safe; but you're caught away off third
base and now you're out! You've got to settle with me for every day you
have that vessel under charter until you deliver her back here in
San Francisco Bay and formally surrender her to me. You've got to pay
me--and what's more, I'm going to see to it that you do! Business is
business, my boy."

"Well, I'll pay you all the cash I can and give you my note for the
remainder."

"Your note!" Cappy jeered. "Your note! What do I want with your note! Is
it hockable at any bank? Huh! Answer me that."

"You needn't insult me!" Matt growled wrathfully.

"Bah!" Cappy sneered. "You think you're mighty smart, don't you, Matt?
Do you remember what I told you when you declined to go to work for me
and insisted on going into business for yourself? I told you you'd go
bust--and you're going right now. All you'll have left in thirty days
will be the clothes you stand in and the corporation seal of the Pacific
Shipping Company. Ho-ho! Isn't that funny? The idea of a man's paying
thirty thousand dollars for a dinky old corporation seal worth two and a
half!"

Matt Peasley's face went white with suppressed fury.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I