"Bah!" grunts Cap'n Spiller, knockin' the heel out of his corncob vicious. "I ain't got any use for women." "I see," says Chunk, gazin' up sentimental at the moon. "A blighted romance of youth; some fair, fickle maid who fled with another and left you alone?" "No such luck," says Spiller. "My trouble was havin' too many to once. Drat 'em!" And you'd most thought Chunk would have let it go at that; but not him! He only tackles Spiller along another line. "What I want to know, Captain," says he, "is where you learned to play the accordion so well." "Never learned 'tall," growls Spiller. "Just picked it up from a Portugee that tried to knife me afterwards." "You don't say!" says Chunk. "But there's the musician's soul in you. You love it, don't you? You use it to express your deep, unsatisfied longings?" "Guess so," says the Captain. "I allus plays most when my dyspepshy is worst. It's kind of a relief." "Um-m-m--ah!" says Chunk. "Many geniuses are that way. You must come into town, though, and let me take you to hear some real, bang up, classical music." "Not me!" grunts Spiller. "I can make all the music I want myself." "How about plays, then?" says Chunk. "Now, wouldn't you like to see the best show on Broadway?" "No, sir," says he, prompt and vigorous. "I ain't never seen any shows, and don't want to seen one, either." And, say, along about that time, what with the stale cookin' and bilge water scents that was comin' from the stuffy cabin, and this charmin' mood that old Spiller was in, I was gettin' restless. "Say, Chunk," I breaks in, "you may be enjoyin' this, all right; but I've got enough. It's me for shore! Goin' along?" "Not yet," says he. "Have the boat come back for me in about an hour." It was nearer two, though, before he shows up again, and his face is fairly beamin'. "Well," says I, "did you adopt the old pirate, or did he adopt you?" "Wait and see," says he, noddin' his head cocky. "Anyway, he's promised to show up at my office to-morrow afternoon." "You must be stuck on entertaining a grouchy old lemon like that," says I. "But he's a genius," says Chunk. "Just what I've been looking for as a head liner in a new vaudeville house I'm opening next month." "What!" says I. "You ain't thinkin' of puttin' that old sour face on the stage, are you? Say, you're batty!" "Batty, am I?" says Chunk, kind of swellin' up. "All right, I'll show you. I've made half a million, my boy, by just such batty moves as that. It's because I know people, know 'em through and through, from what they'll pay to hear, to the ones who can give 'em what they want. I'm a discoverer of talent, Shorty. Where do I get my stars from? Pick 'em up anywhere. I don't go to London and Paris and pay fancy salaries. I find my attractions first hand, sign' em up on long contracts, and take the velvet that comes in myself. That's my way, and I guess I've made good."