Havin' the _Maggie_ sort of puts a crimp in my
plans."
"Rot," snapped Captain Scraggs. "I've had the _Maggie_ overhauled
and shipped a new wheel, and she's a mighty smart little boat,
I'll tell you. I'll land them arms in Descanso Bay all right."
"I know you will," said Mr. Gibney sadly. "That's just what
hurts. You see, Scraggsy, I never intended 'em for Descanso Bay
in the first place. There's a nice healthy little revolution
fomentin' down in the United States of Colombia, with Adelbert P.
Gibney playin' both ends to the middle. And there's a dog-hole
down on the Gold Coast where I intended to land this cargo, but
now that Scab Johnny's gone to work and sent me a bay scow
instead of a sea-goin' steamer, I'm in the nine-hole instead o'
dog-hole. I can never get as far as the Gold Coast with the
_Maggie_. She can't carry coal enough to last her."
"But I thought these guns and things was for the Mexicans,"
quavered Captain Scraggs. "Scab Johnny and Lopez told me they
was."
Mr. Gibney groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Scraggsy," he
said sadly, "it's a cinch you ain't used the past four years to
stimulate that imagination of yours.
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