Honest, now, Scraggsy, old side-winder, you ain't goin' to maroon
us here, alone with the vegetables, are you?"

"You done me dirt. You quit me cold. Git out. Two can play at a
dirty game an' every dog must have his day. This is my day, Gib.
Scat!"

"Pers'nally," McGuffey announced quietly, "I prefer to die aboard
the _Maggie_, if I have to. This ain't movin' day with B.
McGuffey, Esquire."

"Them's my sentiments, too, Scraggsy."

"Then defend yourselves. Come on, lads. Bear a hand an' we'll
bounce these muckers overboard." The Squarehead hung back having
no intention of waging war upon his late comrades, but the
engineer and the new navigating officer stepped briskly forward,
for they were about to fight for their jobs. Mr. Gibney halted
the advance by lifting both great hands in a deprecatory manner.

"For Heaven's sake, Scraggsy, have a heart. Don't force us to
murder you. If we're peaceable, what's to prevent you from givin'
us a passage back to San Francisco, where we're known an' where
we'll have at least a fightin' chance to git somethin' to eat
occasionally."

"You know mighty well what's to prevent me, Gib. I ain't got no
passenger license, an' I'll be keel-hauled an' skull-dragged if I
fall for your cute little game, my son. I ain't layin' myself
liable to a fine from the Inspectors an' maybe have my ticket