s?"

It had! Both McGuffey and Neils admitted it. There are few men in
this world who have not, at some period of their lives, held the
same view, albeit the majority of those who have endeavoured to
demonstrate that fact have subsequently changed their minds.

"I thought as much," the commodore grinned. "If I was to let you
two out o' my sight for a day you'd both be flat busted the day
after. So we won't buy no farm an' go in for chickens. We'll sell
the _Victor_ an' buy a little tradin' schooner. Then we'll go
back to the South Seas an' earn a legitimate livin'."

"But why'll we sell the _Victor_?" McGuffey demanded. "Gib, she's
a love of a boat."

"Because I've just had a talk with the owners o' the two
opposition lines an' they, knowin' me to be chummy with you an'
Scraggsy, give me the tip to tell you two that you could have
your choice o' two propositions--a rate war or a sale o' the
_Victor_ for ten thousand dollars. That gets you out clean an'
saves your original capital, an' it gits Scraggsy out the same
way, while nettin' me an' Neils five hundred each."

"A rate war would ruin us," McGuffey agreed. "In addition to
sourin' Scraggsy's disposition until he wouldn't be fit to live
with. Gib, you're a wonder."

"I know it," Mr. Gibney replied.

Within two hours Captain Scraggs's half interest had passed into
the hands of McGuffey, and half an hour later the _Victor_ had
passed into the hands of the opposition lines, to be operated for
the joint profit of the latter. Later in the day all four members
of the syndicate met in the Bowhead saloon, where Mr. Gibney
explained the deal to Captain Scraggs. The latter was dumfounded.

"I had to fox you into selling," the commodore confessed.

"But how about them defunct codfish, Gib?"

"I got the new owners to agree to tow 'em up at a reasonable
figger. When I've cleaned up that deal, we'll buy a schooner an'
run South again."

"You'll run without me, Gib," Scraggs declared emphatically.
"I've had a-plenty o' the dark blue for mine. I got a little
stake now, so I'm going to look around an' invest in a----"

"A chicken ranch," McGuffey interrupted.

"Right-O, Bart. How'd you guess it?"

"Imagination," quoth McGuffey, tapping his forehead,
"imagination, Scraggsy."

Something told Mr. Gibney that it would be just as well if he did
not insist upon having Scraggs as a member of his crew. So he did
not insist. In the afternoon of life Mr. Gibney was acquirin