notebook with an air of importance that made his father choke. “There isn’t but three—no—two ninety-four or five quintal more by my reckoning.”
“Hire a substitute,” suggested Cheyne, to see what Harvey would say.
“Can’t, sir. I’m tallyman for the schooner. Troop says I’ve a better head for figures than Dan. Troop’s a mighty just man.”
“Well, suppose I don’t move the ‘Constance’ tonight, how’ll you fix it?”
Harvey looked at the clock, which marked twenty past eleven.
“Then I’ll sleep here till three and catch the four o’clock freight. They let us men from the Fleet ride free as a rule.”
“That’s a notion. But I think we can get the ‘Constance’ around about as soon as your men’s freight. Better go to bed now.”
Harvey spread himself on the sofa, kicked off his