Rex and Midkiff went up to a machine shop for the new engine parts and needed repairs. On their way back to the dock, the big fellow again tried to reason with his roommate.
"Why not send a letter while we're here to the Manatee Company, and tell them how the permit was lost?" he begged. "They'd give us another, wouldn't they? That Enos Quibb will be coming around again—and he isn't going to be put off so easy a second time. You can see that."
"Beautiful day, Midkiff," Kingdon observed, his head in the air.
"Don't you hear what I say?"
"We're going to have some job beating back against this wind—if she doesn't change."
"Hang it all, Rex! Come on! Take a fool's advice——"
"No, Jawn; I'm foolish enough myself. Why load up with an overstock of the same goods?"
"Hang it all!" ejaculated Midkiff again.
"Do, Jawn," Kingdon advised mildly. "Hang it all up—and forget it."
"You'd try the patience of a saint!"