“Thank you, sir,” the Petrel replied, as she rang off.
Then somebody from the Baltimore rang me up.
“Commodore Dewey,” said the Baltimore, “there are mines in the harbor.”
“Well, what of it?” I replied.
“What shall we do?” asked the Baltimore.
“Treat them coldly, as they do in the Klondike,” said I.
“But they aren’t gold-mines,” replied the Baltimore.
“Then salt ’em,” said I, dryly. “Apply for a certificate of incorporation, water your stock, sell out, and retire.”
“Thank you, Commodore,” the Baltimore answered. “How many shares shall we put you down for?”
“None,” said I. “But if you’ll use your surplus to start a life-insurance company, I’ll take out a policy for forty-eight hours, and send you my demand note to pay for the first premium.”