The bloodthirsty McGuffey stood at the break of the poop, and as
he gazed shoreward he chuckled and rubbed his hands together.
"Great, great," he murmured. "I couldn't have gotten a better
island if I'd had one built to order." He called aft to the
navigating officer: "Scraggsy, there's the ring. Nothin' else to
do now but get the contestants into it. Along in the late
afternoon, when the heat of the day is over, we'll go ashore and
pull off the fight. And, by George, Scraggs, if that old king
succeeds in lambastin' you, I'll set the rascal free."
"I'll lick him with one hand tied and the other paralyzed,"
retorted Captain Scraggs with fine nonchalance. "No need o'
waitin' on my account. Heat or no heat, I'm just naturally pinin'
to beat up the royal person."
"If this ain't the best idea I ever heard of, I'm a Dutchman,"
replied McGuffey. "A happy combination of business and pleasure.
Who fights first, Gib? You or Scraggs?"
"I guess I'd better open the festivities," said Mr. Gibney
amiably. "I ain't no kill-joy and I want Scraggsy to get some fun
out of this frolic. If I fight first the old kiddo can look on in
peace and enjoy the sight, and if him and the king fights first
perhaps he won't be in no condition to appreciate the spectacle
that me and Tabu-Tabu puts up.
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