"
They took a hitch in their belts and started. From the point at
which they left the trolley to their journey's end was a stiff
six-hour jaunt, up hill and down dale, and long before the march
was half completed the unaccustomed exercise had developed sundry
galls and blisters on the Gibney heels, while the soles of poor
McGuffey's feet were so hot he voiced the apprehension that they
might burn to a crisp at any moment and drop off by the wayside.
Men less hardy and less desperate would have abandoned the trip
before ten miles had been covered.
CHAPTER X
The crew of the _Maggie_ had ceased working cargo for the day and
Captain Scraggs was busy cooking supper in the galley when the
two prodigals, exhausted, crippled, and repentant, came to the
door and coughed propitiously, but Captain Scraggs pretended not
to hear, and went on with his task of turning fried eggs with an
artistic flip of the frying pan. So Mr. Gibney spoke, struggling
bravely to appear nonchalant. With his eyes on the fried eggs and
his mouth threatening to slaver at the glorious sight, he said:
"Hello, there, Scraggsy, old tarpot. How goes it with the owner
o' the fast an' commodious steamer _Maggie_? Git that consignment
o' post-holes aboard yet?"
Mr.
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