Part 26

“Oh, forget your business, skipper,” advised one of the party.

“It is not my business, sir.” He laid the packet of messages before the operator on her little counter and tapped his finger on them. “They must go,” he repeated.

“In their turn,” warned the yachtsman, showing that he resented this intrusion. “And after the party is over!”

“I intended to confine my conversation to this young lady,” said Mayo. He turned and faced them. “But I have been here long enough to see that you gentlemen are interfering with the business of this office. Perhaps your messages are not important. Mine are.”

The yachtsman was not sober nor was he judicious. “Go back to your job, young fellow,” he advised. “You are horning in among gentlemen.”

“So am I,” squawked Mr. Speed, with weather eye out for clouds of any sort.

Captain Mayo gave his supporter a glance of mingled astonishment and relish. “We'd better not have any words about the matter, gentlemen,'' he suggested, mildly.

“Certainly not,” stated the spokesman. “If you'll pass on there'll be no words--or anything else.”

“Then we'll dispense with words!” The quick anger of youth flared in Mayo. The air of the man rather than his words had offended deeply. “You'd like to have this room to yourself so that you can attend to your business, I presume?” he asked the operator.

“Yes, I would.”

Oakum Otie laid his folded paper upon the packet of Captain Mayo.

“You will leave the room gentlemen,” advised the captain.

Mr. Speed thrust out his bony elbows and cracked his hard fists together. “I have never liked dudes,” he stated. “I have been brought up that way. All my training with Cap'n Epps has been that way.”

“How do you fit into this thing?” demanded one of the yachtsmen.

“About like this,” averred Mr. Speed. He grabbed the young man by both shoulders and ran him out into the night before anybody could interfere. Then Mr. Speed reappeared promptly and inquired, “Which one goes next?”

“I think they will all go,” said the captain.

“Come on,” urged one of the party. “We can't afford to get into a brawl with natives.”

“You bet you can't,” retorted Oakum Otie. “I hain't hove bunches of shingles all my life for nothing!”

Mayo said nothing more. But after the yachtsmen had looked him over they went out, making the affair a subject for ridicule.

“Hope I done right and showed to you that I was thankful for good advice,” suggested Mr. Speed, seeking commendation.

“Just a bit hasty, sir.”

“Maybe, but there's nothing like handing folks a sample just to show up the quality of the whole piece.”

“I thank you--both of you,” said the grateful operator.

“You'd better lock your door,” advised Mayo. “Men are thoughtless when they have nothing to do except play.”

“I am so grateful! And I'm going to break an office rule,” volunteered the girl. “I shall send off your telegrams first.”

“And I hope you can tuck that little one in second--it won't take up much room!” pleaded Oakum Otie. “It's to help an awful pretty girl--looks are a good deal like yours!”

“I'll attend to it,” promised the young woman, blushing.

Outside in the village street Mr. Speed wiped his rough palm against the leg of his trousers and offered his hand to the captain. “I'll have to say good-by to you here, sir. I've got a little errunting to do--fig o' terbacker and a box of stror'b'ries. I confess to a terrible tooth for stror'b'ries. When the hanker ketches me and I can't get to stror'b'ries my stror'b'ry mark shows up behind my ear. I hope I have done right in sending off that tele-graft for her--but it's too bad that a landlubber beau is going to get such a pretty girl.” Then Oakum Otie sighed and melted away into the foggy gloom.