"
Again Cappy clawed his whiskers. "Sydney, eh?" he said musingly.
"That's nice! We can send him over to Newcastle from there to pick up
a cargo of coal, and maybe he'll come home afire! If we can't hand
him a stink, Skinner, we'll put a few gray hairs in his head."
These instructions Mr. Skinner grudgingly complied with; and Matt
Peasley, with his hatches wide open and buckets of punk burning in the
hold to dispel the lingering fragrance of his recent cargo--concluding
that, on the whole, he and Mr. Murphy had come through the entire
affair very handsomely indeed--towed down to Hadlock and commenced to
take on cargo. If Cappy Ricks was willing to declare a truce then
Matt Peasley would declare one too.
Matt's peaceful acquiescence in his owner's program merely served to
arouse Cappy Ricks' abnormal curiosity. The more he thought of Matt
Peasley the greater grew his desire for a closer scrutiny. The most
amazing man in the world had been in his employ a year and a half, and
as yet they had never met; unless the Retriever should happen to be
loaded for San Francisco years might elapse before they should see
each other; and now that he had attained to his allotted three score
years and ten Cappy decided that he could no longer gamble on the
future.
He summoned Mr.
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