“Do you know, Dick, you make me think of the folks up at the college here. You know that brewer that died repentant and left five hundred thousand dollars to the Biblical School? Well, a lot of the old preachers got stirred up over it and made them refuse the money-- made 'em refuse five hundred thousand cash! Good Lord! if these particular folks would look into the private history of all the dollars in the country, they'd never touch one of them,--not one. There isn't a dollar of the lot that hasn't got a bad spot somewhere, like the rest of us. The main thing is, are your own hands clean when you take it? If they are, the dollar can't hurt you.” “But look here, Henry, my mind's made up about this. I won't have that fellow on my schooner.” “Going to turn him off to-night?” “Yes, right now.” “All right. You can send him over here. I 'll give him a bunk till morning. But what are you going to do for a mate?” “Pink is all right. I could go farther and do worse.” “All right. Tell Joe to bring his things along.” CHAPTER VI--THE RED SEAL LABEL [Illustration: 0152] IT was on Friday morning that the _Merry Anne_ had sailed away from Lakeville for her first trip to Spencer's. On this same Friday another set of persons were passing through a series of events which concern this story. Dick had sailed out at daybreak. A few hours later, when the morning was still young, Roche, who had come down by train from Manistee, was hanging about near “The Teamster's Friend.” now standing on the corner by the lumber office looking stealthily up and down the street, now passing by on the opposite sidewalk, closely watching the screened windows. Finally he crossed over and entered the saloon to ask for McGlory. Murphy, the senior partner in the business, who lived a few blocks away, came in for his day's work and found Roche there. “McGlory,” said Murphy, “won't be back for a week or so.” At this, with an angry exclamation, Roche went out. The quantity of bad whiskey he had taken in since his discharge from the _Merry Anne_ at the Manistee pier, had not worked to change his humor or to calm his faculties. He was plunging around the lumber office into a side street when Beveridge, who had been watching his every movement, accosted him. “Beg pardon, have you got a match?” “Hey? What's that?” “Have you got a match?” “A match? Why, sure.” “Much obliged. I've got the cigars. Better make a fair trade. You 'll find 'em a good smoke.” “Well, don't care 'f I do. Here, you can't light in this wind.” “Oh, yes, I'm Irish. Say, haven't I seen you somewhere?” “Couldn't say.” “Why, sure I have. Isn't your name Roche?” “That's what it is.” “And you're mate of the _Merry Anne_, sailing out of Lakeville?” “You're wrong there.” “No, I'm sure of it. I've seen you too many times.” “Why, do you b'long out there?” “Yes, I live at Lakeville.” “Well, look here; I 'll tell you how it is. I was on the _Merry Anne_, but I ain't any more.” “Oh, you quit Smiley?”