"I know it," Mr. Gibney replied.
Within two hours Captain Scraggs's half interest had passed into the hands of McGuffey, and half an hour later the Victor had passed into the hands of the opposition lines, to be operated for the joint profit of the latter. Later in the day all four members of the syndicate met in the Bowhead saloon, where Mr. Gibney explained the deal to Captain Scraggs. The latter was dumfounded.
"I had to fox you into selling," the commodore confessed.
"But how about them defunct codfish, Gib?"
"I got the new owners to agree to tow 'em up at a reasonable figger. When I've cleaned up that deal, we'll buy a schooner an' run South again."
"You'll run without me, Gib," Scraggs declared emphatically. "I've had a-plenty o' the dark blue for mine. I got a little stake now, so I'm going to look around an' invest in a——"
"A chicken ranch," McGuffey interrupted.
"Right-O, Bart. How'd you guess it?"
"Imagination," quoth McGuffey, tapping his forehead, "imagination, Scraggsy."
Something told Mr. Gibney that it would be just as well if he did not insist upon having Scraggs as a member of his crew. So he did not insist. In the afternoon of life Mr. Gibney was acquiring common sense.