“Well--I'm mighty obliged for--” “Not at all.” Thirty-six hours later, when the Merry Anne was slipping through the islands west of the straits and heading southward for the run down Lake Michigan, McGlory slipped aft and addressed Harper, who had the wheel. “I was sort o' hasty awhile ago, Pink, when I hit you that time. I hope you ain't a-layin' it up against me.” Pink stared at him, but offered no reply. “I was a little excited. You see, Cap'n Smiley's a good sailor, but he don't know where his own interest is.” “I ain't got nothin' to say to you about Cap'n Smiley.” “I know. Say, you ain't got no objections to turnin' an honest penny, have you? “That depends.” “Or say maybe it was a neat little five hundred--good hard stuff.” “Where's it cornin' from?” “You know where we was--over in Canada?” “I ought to.” “Well, Smiley knows all about that.” “The---------he does!” “Sure thing. He's been there before, more'n once.” “Funny he didn't know the channel then. There ain't a place around the Lakes he couldn't sail the _Anne_ through if he'd smelled it once.” “I know. That's the queer part of it. He knows it with his eyes shut. He had some reason or other for puttin' up the bluff he did, an' I'd give just about ten round dollars to know what it was.” “Better ask him.” “Watch me. This ain't the kind o' thing you can talk out about. I know he knows, an' he knows I know; but he's down on me an' there's nothin' I can say--here, anyway.” “What do you want o' me?” “You're the right sort--you've got nerve an' a head on you. Help me carry this business through, an' I 'll divvy up with you--five hundred, sure, to start with.” “What am I to do?” “Nothin' hard. You've got a good stand in with Smiley. Just put in a word for me, so's he won't fire me before another trip, anyway. You fellows made a mistake this time in not standin' by me. I can do better by you than he can--a lot better. Help me to stay aboard for the next trip, an' I 'll hand you fifty right now for a sweetener.” “Well, I 'll see what I can do.” “I've got the fifty down below. I 'll get it.” “Hold on--don't be in a hurry. You'd better see what I can do for you before you do any sweetenin'.” McGlory nodded and slipped back to his station. When the watch was changed, he went below and settled down to writing a letter on crumpled paper with a pencil. He seemed to be thinking hard. Three times he made a start, only to hold the paper up to the lantern, shake his head over it, tear it up, and stuff the pieces into his pocket. But the fourth attempt, which follows, suited him better.