Seven days after leaving Honolulu, the _Hilonian_ steamed into
San Francisco Bay. The syndicate could not wait until she had
tied up at her dock, and the minute the steamer had passed
quarantine Mr. Gibney hailed a passing launch. Bag and baggage
the happy quartette descended to the launch and landed at Meiggs
wharf. Mr. Gibney stepped into the wharfinger's office and
requested permission to use the telephone.
"What's up, Gib?" demanded Captain Scraggs.
"I want to 'phone for a automobile to come down an' snake us up
town in style. This syndicate ain't a-goin' to come rampin' home
to Gawd's country lookin' like a lot o' Eyetalian peddlers. We're
goin' to the best hotel an' we're goin' in _style_."
McGuffey nudged Captain Scraggs, and Neils Halvorsen nudged Mr.
McGuffey.
"Hay bane a sport, hay bane," rumbled the honest Neils.
"You bet he bane," McGuffey retorted. "Ain't he the old kiddo,
Scraggsy? Ain't he? This feller Adelbert P. Gibney's a farmer, I
guess."
With the assistance of the wharfinger an automobile was summoned,
and in due course the members of the syndicate found themselves
ensconced in a fashionable suite in San Francisco's most
fashionable hotel.
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