to be mistaken. I fancied perhaps you might know I own a line of tea-clippers—San Francisco to Yokohama—six of ’em—iron-built, about seventeen hundred and eighty tons apiece.
“Blame that boy! He never told. I’d ha’ listened to that , instid o’ his truck abaout railroads an’ pony-carriages.”
“He didn’t know.”
“Little thing like that slipped his mind, I guess.”
“No, I only capt—took hold of the ‘Blue M. ’ freighters—Morgan and McQuade’s old line—this summer.”
Disko collapsed where he sat, beside the stove.
“Great Caesar Almighty! I mistrust I’ve been fooled from one end to the other. Why, Phil Airheart he went from this very town six year back—no, seven—an’ he’s mate on the San Jose now—twenty-six days was her time out. His sister she’s livin’ here yet, an’ she reads his letters to