Anthony nodded reminiscently. "Blacked his eyes and busted his nose!"
"Good for you! Go ahead with your story."
"I've met a girl on the steamer, and according to her way of looking at things, I lack about five thousand different parts of being a hero. You know the girl. That's why I'm bothering you like this."
"Not bothering me a bit. Who's the girl?"
"Peggy." Anthony caressed the word as if it were honey. "Peggy Whipple. Of course, the first thing I want to make sure of is, am I stepping on anybody's toes? If I am, I'll just go ahead, and play my own game my own way. If it's to be a case of a fight——"
"Hold on a moment," interrupted Peter. "I don't quite follow you. Whose toes do you think you're stepping on?"
"Well, Peggy comes up here to the wireless shack so much, that I—I——"
"Oh, not a bit of it, old man. Peggy's a nice girl. I like her. That's all."
"I—I'm mighty glad," said Anthony earnestly. "You know, she's pretty mad about you, but as long as you're not interested the way I am, well——" He bit his lip nervously, and went on: "I think you'd agree with me that it would be rather foolish of her, and very disappointing and disillusioning later on for her to marry the kind of a man she thinks she wants to marry. She has a notion that the man she marries must be a cross between Adonis, and—and Diamond Dick! She wants a man who carries six-shooters in all his pockets, and who fears neither God, man, nor the devil!"
"A regular hell buster!"