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Gibney thereupon folded this clearance paper into the tiniest possible compact ball, wrapped it in a piece of tinfoil torn from a package of tobacco, to protect it from his saliva, tucked it in his cheek and with a sign for McGuffey to follow him, started crawling over the cargo aft.
He now had three cigars, so he gave one each to his victims and forcibly dragged them away from the bar and up to a Pine Street French restaurant, the proprietor of which was an Italian. Captain Scraggs was for walking the six blocks to this restaurant, but Mr. McGuffey had acquired, on six cocktails, what is colloquially described as "a start," and insisted upon chartering a taxicab.
Fullback Jeffries Quarterback Hopkins End Tackle Guard Center Guard Tackle End Douglass Badger Hemming Griffin McGuffey Jackman Jones Quarterback Lighthart Halfback Halfback Collins Trowbridge Fullback Budge Of course, as the sides faced each other the left end of Chester, Jones, found himself confronting the right end of Marshall, Haldy.
McGuffey, smothered in guilt, felt nevertheless that he had to stand by his guns, so to speak. "Stay through, if you feel like it," he retorted. "Where d'ye get that chatter? Ain't I free, white, an' twenty-one year old?" Mr. Gibney was really hurt. "You poor boob," he murmured.
McGuffey, after two barren months "on the beach," landed a job as second assistant on a Standard Oil tanker running to the West Coast, while thrifty Neils Halvorsen invested the savings of ten years in a bay scow known as the Willie and Annie, arrogated to himself the title of captain, and proceeded to freight hay, grain, and paving stones from Petaluma.
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.
Gibney favoured him with a sour glance, Captain Scraggs stuck out his hand and shook briskly with the native. "Happy to make your acquaintance," he said. "Scraggs is my name, sir. Shake hands with McGuffey, our chief engineer. Hope you left all the folks at home well. What'd you say your name was?"
Through the darkness of the night a tongue of flame had suddenly shot up, and then vanished again; but not before they could notice that dense volumes of smoke hung around the spot. "What place is it?" called out McGuffey, from the centre of the bunch; "does anybody know?"
Driven by a little steeple compound engine, in the pride of her youth she could make ten knots. However, what with old age and boiler scale, the best she could do now was six, and had Mr. McGuffey paid the slightest heed to the limitations imposed upon his steam gauge by the Supervising Inspector of Boilers at San Francisco, she would have been limited to five.
The Pickett Readers, Cobb Readers, Goodrich Readers, and even the excellent Rhetorical Reader of Ebenezer Porter were all swept out of the schools by the superior qualities of the McGuffey Readers and the persistent energies of their publishers. In these books the publishers found space for a little advertising of their wares.
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