the _Maggie_, Messrs. McGuffey and Gibney loaded him into a
taxicab and sent him there, while they continued their search for
excitement. Where and how they found it requires no elucidation
here; it is sufficient to state that it was expensive, for when
men of the Gibney and McGuffey type have once gotten a fair start
naught but financial dissolution can stop them.

On Monday morning, Messrs. Gibney and McGuffey awoke in Scab
Johnny's boarding house. Mr. Gibney awoke first, by reason of the
fact that his stomach hammered at the door of his soul and bade
him be up and doing. While his head ached slightly from the fiery
usquebaugh of the Bowhead saloon, he craved a return to a solid
diet, so for several minutes he lay supine, conjuring in his
agile brain ways and means of supplying this need in the absence
of ready cash. "I'll have to hock my sextant," was the conclusion
at which he presently arrived. Then he commenced to heave and
surge until presently he found himself clear of the blankets and
seated in his underclothes on the side of the bed. Here, he
indulged in a series of scratchings and yawnings, after which he
disposed at a gulp of most of the water designed for his
matutinal ablutions. Ten minutes later he took his sextant under
his arm and departed for a pawnshop in lower Market Street. From
the pawnshop he returned to Scab Johnny's with eight dollars in
his pocket, routed out the contrite McGuffey, and carried the
latter off to ham and eggs.

They felt better after breakfast and for the space of an hour
lolled at the table, discussing their adventures of the past
forty-eight hours. "Well, there's one thing certain," McGuffey
concluded, "an' that thing is sure a cinch. Our strike has