"I was behind the potato crates this mornin' whilst you an' Mac was yarnin'," Scraggs hastened to confess. "Ow! Wow! Leggo, Gib! Can't you take a little joke?"
"Was Mac here in on the joke? Was you let in on it after I went?" Mr. Gibney demanded of his Fidus Achates.
"I was not, Gib. I don't call it no joke to wring a feller's heart like Scraggsy wrung yourn."
"In addition to makin' a three-ply jackass o' me!" Captain Scraggs cowered under the rain of ferocious slaps and attempted to fight back, but he was helpless in the huge Gibney's grasp and was forced to submit to a boxing of the ears that would have addled his brains, had he possessed any. "Now, then," Mr. Gibney roared, as he cast the skipper loose, "let that be a lesson to you to let the skeletons in my closet alone hereafter. Mac, you're not to lend Scraggsy a cent to help him out on expenses, added to which me an' you quit the Maggie here an' now."
"You're a devil," McGuffey growled at Scraggs, "an' sweet Christian thoughts is wasted on you."
Glowering ferociously, the worthy pair went over the rail.
CHAPTER XVI
Godless and wholly irreclaimable as Mr. Gibney and Mr. McGuffey might have been and doubtless were, each possessed in bounteous measure the sweetest of human attributes, to-wit: a soft, kind heart and a forgiving spirit. Creatures of impulse both, they found it absolutely impossible to nourish a grudge against Captain Scraggs, when, upon returning to Scab Johnny's boarding house that night, their host handed them a grubby note from their enemy. It was short and sweet and sounded quite sincere; Mr. Gibney read it aloud:
On Board the Maggie, Saturday night.