“Oh, of course not,” drawled Truax, blowing out a cloud of tobacco smoke.

“Then I guess I’ll stay where I am,” nodded Williamson.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to stop all smoking in here now,” announced Eph,
thrusting his head in at the doorway. “There’ll be a lot of cadets aboard
at eleven o’clock, and we want the air clear and sweet. You’d better go
all over the machinery and see that everything is in applepie order and
appearance. Mr. Hastings will be in here soon to inspect it.”

“Just what rank does _that_ young turkey-cock hold on board?” sneered
Truax, when the door had closed.

“Don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Williamson. “All I know is that the three
youngsters are aboard here to run the boat and show it off to the best
advantage. My pay is running right along, and I’ve no kick at taking
orders from any one of them.”

“This is where I go on smoking, anyway,” declared Truax, insolently,
striking a match and lighting his pipe again. Williamson reached over,
snatching the pipe from between the other man’s teeth and dumping out the
coals, after which the machinist coolly dropped the pipe into one of his
own pockets.

“If you go on this way,” warned Williamson, “Captain Benson will get it
into his head to put you on shore in a jiffy, and for good.”

“I’d like to see him try it,” sneered Sam Truax.