"Lord, I dunno! I should think he would. Luck's an awful big thing in the eyes o' the Bankers. Jonah, he's gen'rally scramblin' 'raound for a crew—an' with 'em all away naow he's probably scramblin' harder than ever. 'Tain't everybody hankers to sail with Jonah. Can't keep a wife on a poor catch, to say nothin' o' what else might happen. Yes; I dunno but what he'd take you—but, mind you, I ain't recommendin' it an' I wouldn't want none o' the responsibility—wouldn't go myself, by jinks, not if he gave me the Mary K. Jones!"
"Where will I find him?" asked Varge, rising. "I think I'll risk it if he will take me—and if he is sailing this morning I guess I had better hurry along."
"Why, you'll find him fast enough down to Varley's fish wharf—any one 'll show you the place."
Varge held out his hand.
"I'm more than obliged to you," he said gratefully. "Thanks very much indeed."
"Ain't no thanks called for," said the old fellow, shaking Varge's hand up and down like a pump handle. "Glad to have met you. Just foller that road there right along till you get into the town."
"Thanks," said Varge heartily. "Good-bye."
He crossed the beach, reached the road, started along it, then stopped suddenly and turned, as the other shouted after him.
"Hi, young fellow! Hi!"
"Yes?" Varge answered.
The old fisherman was scratching earnestly at his head, and conscientious worry was written large on the crinkled face.
