"If you're shy a few bucks——" McGuffey began.
"I am," Captain Scraggs wailed. "I'm worried to death. I don't know how I'm ever goin' to pay for that bloody boiler an' git to sea with the Maggie——"
"Little sorrel-top," Mr. Gibney murmured, ruffling Scraggs's thin blonde hair. "Forget them sordid monetary considerations. I'm somethin' like forty jumps ahead o' the devil an' ruination for the first time since me an' Bull McGinty organized the Brotherhood o' the South Seas——"
"Leggo me," snarled Captain Scraggs and springing back, he bent and looked earnestly into Mr. Gibney's happy countenance. "Good land o' Goshen, if you ain't him!" Hate gleamed in his eyes.
"Ain't who, you shrimp!" Mr. Gibney was mystified at this abrupt change of attitude.
Captain Scraggs blinked and passed his hand wearily across his brow. "Forgive me, Gib," he answered humbly. "I was sort o' took back, that's all."
"Took back at what?"
"We won't say nothin' more about it, Gib, except that while I'd like to accept your kind offer an' put you back on the job again, I—I just can't bring myself to do it. I'll have to forget first."
"Forget what? Bart, is Scraggsy gone nutty?"
"Out with it, Scraggs," Mr. McGuffey urged. "Spit it out, whatever it is."