If you was ever navigatin' officer on a
Colombian gunboat, Scraggs, you'd realize what it means to run
from a Mexican."
Captain Scraggs said nothing further. Perhaps he was a little
ashamed of himself in the face of Mr. Gibney's simple faith in
his own ability; perhaps in his veins, all unknown, there flowed
a taint of the heroic blood of some forgotten sea-dog. Be that as
it may, something did swell in his breast when Mr. Gibney spoke
of the flag and his scorning to hide behind it, and Scraggs's
snaggle teeth came together with a snap.
"All right, Gib, my boy," he said solemnly, "I'm with you. Mrs.
Scraggs has slipped her cable and there ain't nobody to mourn for
me. But if we can't fight under the Stars and Stripes, by the
tail of the Great Sacred Bull, we'll have a flag of our own," and
leaving Mr. Gibney and the crew to get the guns on deck, Captain
Scraggs ran below. He appeared on deck presently with a long blue
burgee on which was emblazoned in white letters the single word
_Maggie_. It was his own houseflag, and with trembling hands he
ran it to the fore and cast its wrinkled folds to the breeze of
heaven.
"Good old dishcloth!" shrieked Mr.
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