rovin' and wild
adventure's all right, but the old green-pea trade wasn't so
durned bad, after all."

"You bet!" McGuffey's response was very fervid.

"Them was the happy days," supplemented the commodore. He was as
joyous as a schoolboy. Four long years had he been roving and
now, with his pockets lined with greenbacks, he was homeward
bound to his dear old San Francisco--back to steam beer, to all
of his old cronies of the Embarcadero, to moving picture
shows--to Life! And he was glad to get back with a whole skin.

Seven days after leaving Honolulu, the _Hilonian_ steamed into
San Francisco Bay. The syndicate could not wait until she had
tied up at her dock, and the minute the steamer had passed
quarantine Mr. Gibney hailed a passing launch. Bag and baggage
the happy quartette descended to the launch and landed at Meiggs
wharf. Mr. Gibney stepped into the wharfinger's office and
requested permission to use the telephone.

"What's up, Gib?" demanded Captain Scraggs.

"I want to 'phone for a automobile to come down an' snake us up
town in style. This syndicate ain't a-goin' to come rampin' home
to Gawd's country lookin' like a lot o' Eyetalian peddlers. We're
goin' to the best hotel an' we're goin' in _style_."

McGuffey nudged Captain Scraggs, and Neils Halvorsen nudged Mr.
McGuffey.

"Hay bane a sport, hay bane," rumbled the honest Neils.

"You bet he bane," McGuffey retorted. "Ain't he the old kiddo,
Scraggsy? Ain't he? This feller Adelbert P. Gibney's a farmer, I
guess."

With the assistance of the wharfinger an automobile was summoned,
and in due course the members of the syndicate found themselves
ensconced in a fashionable suite in San Francisco's most
fashionable hotel. Mr. Gibney stored the syndicate's pearls in
the hotel safe, deposited an emergency roll with the hotel clerk,
and banked the balance of the company funds in the names of all
four; after which the syndicate gave itself up to a period of joy
unconfined.

At the end of a week of riot and revelry Mr. Gibney revived
sufficiently to muster all hands and lead them to a Turkish bath.
Two days in the bath restored them wonderfully, and when the
worthy commodore eventually got them back to the hotel he
announced that henceforth the lid was on--and on tight. Captain
Scraggs, who was hard to manage in his cups and the most prodigal
of prodigals with steam up to a certain pressure, demurred at
this.

"No more sky-larkin', Scraggsy, you old