CHAPTER IX


A week had elapsed and nothing of an eventful nature had
transpired to disturb the routine of life aboard the _Maggie_,
until Bartholomew McGuffey, having heard certain waterfront
whispers, considered it the part of prudence to lay his
information before Scraggs and Mr. Gibney.

"Look here, Scraggs," he began briskly. "It's all fine an' dandy
to promise me a new boiler, but when do I git it?"

"Why, jes' as soon as we can get this glut o' freight behind us,
Bart, my boy. The way it's pilin' up on us now, what with this
bein' the height o' the busy season an' all, it stands to reason
we got to wait a while for dull times before layin' the _Maggie_
up."

"What's the matter with orderin' the new boiler now so's to have
it ready to chuck into her over the week-end," McGuffey
suggested. "There needn't be no great delay."

"As owner o' the _Maggie_," Scraggs reminded him with just a
touch of asperity, "you've got to leave these details to me.
You've managed with the old boiler this long, so it 'pears to me
you might be patient an' bear with it a mite longer, Bart."

"Oh, I ain't tryin' to be disagreeable, Scraggs, only it sort o'
worries me to have to go along without bein' able to use our
whistle. We got a reputation for joggin' right along, mindin'