"Well, Phineas, you old vegetable hound, ain't you glad to see
us?"

"Certainly, Gib, certainly. I'm deeply appreciative of the honour
o' this visit, although I'm free to say we're hardly prepared for
company. The stores is kind o' low an' I did just figger on
havin' enough, by skimpin' a little, to last me an' my crew until
we get back to San Francisco. I'd hate to put 'em on short
rations, on account of unexpected company, because it gives the
ship a bad name. On the other hand, it's agin my disposition to
appear small over a few fried eggs, while on still another hand,
I realize you two got to get fed." He stepped to the door and
pointed. "See that little shack about two points to starboard o'
the warehouse? Well, there's a Dago livin' there an' he'll fix
you two boys up a bully meal for fifty cents each."

"Scraggsy, ol' hunks, if three-ringed circuses was sellin' for
six bits a throw me an' Bart couldn't buy a whisker from a dead
tiger." The dreadful admission brought a dull flush to Mr.
Gibney's already rubicund countenance.

"Shell out a coupler bucks, Scraggsy," McGuffey pleaded. "Me an'
Gib's so empty we rattle when we walk."

"I ain't got no money to loan you two that ups an leaves me in
the lurch, without no notice," Scraggs flared at them. "If you
two stiffs ain't able to support yourselves you'd ought to apply
for admission to the poorhouse or the Home For the Feeble-minded."

Mr. Gibney smiled fatly. "Scraggsy! You're kiddin' us."