It was fully a week before Captain Scraggs's mental hemorrhage, brought on every time his mind reverted to his loss on the "ginseng" deal, ceased. During all of that period his peregrinations around the _Maggie_ were as those of one for whom the sweets of existence had turned to wormwood and vinegar. Mr. Gibney confided to McGuffey that it was a toss-up whether the old man was meditating murder or suicide. In fact, so depressed was Captain Scraggs that he lacked absolutely the ambition to "rag" his associates; observing which Mr. McGuffey vouchsafed the opinion that perhaps Scraggsy was "teched a mite in his head-block." "Don't you think it," Mr. Gibney warned. "If old Scraggsy's crazy he's crazy like a fox. What's rilin' him is the knowledge that he's stung to the heart an' can't admit it without at the same time admittin' he'd cooked up a deal to double-cross us. He's just a-bustin' with the thoughts that's accumulatin' inside him. Right now he'd drown his sorrers in red liquor if he could afford it." "He's troubled financially, Gib." "Well, you know who troubled him, don't you, Bart?" "I mean about the cost o' them repairs in the engine room. Unless he can come through in thirty days with the balance he owes, the boiler people are goin' to libel the _Maggie_ to protect their claim." Mr. Gibney arched his bushy eyebrows. "How do you know?" he demanded. "He was a-tellin' me," Mr. McGuffey admitted weakly. "Well, he wasn't a-tellin' me." Mr. Gibney's tones were ominous; he glared at his friend suspiciously as from the _Maggie's_ cabin issued forth Scraggsy's voice raised in song. "Hello! The old boy's thermometer's gone up, Bart. Listen at him. 'Ever o' thee he's fondly dreamin'.' Somethin's busted the spell an' I'll bet a cooky it was ready cash." He menaced Mr. McGuffey with a rigid index finger. "Bart," he demanded, "did you loan Scraggsy some money?" The honest McGuffey hung his head. "A little bit," he replied childishly. "What d'ye call a little bit?" "Three hundred dollars, Gib." "Secured?" "He gimme his note at eight per cent. The savin's bank only pays four." "Is the note secured by endorsement or collateral?" "No." "Hum-m-m! Strange you didn't say nothin' to me about this till I had to pry it out o' you, Bart. How about you?" "Well, Scraggsy was feelin' so dog-goned blue----" "The truth," Mr. Gibney insisted firmly, "the truth, Bart." "Well, Scraggsy asked me not to say anythin' to you about it." "Sure. He knew I'd kill the deal. He knew better'n to try to nick me for three hundred bucks on his danged, worthless note. Bart, why'd you do it?" "Oh, hell, Gib, be a good feller," poor McGuffey pleaded. "Don't be too hard on ol' Scraggsy." "We're discussin' _you_, Bart. 'Pears to me you've sort o' lost confidence in your old shipmate, ain't you? 'Pears that way to me when you act sneaky like." McGuffey bridled. "I ain't a sneak."