have complained at the time."

"I am not here to conduct this sale," replied Bellairs; "I am not paid
for that."

"Well, I am, you see," retorted the auctioneer, his impudence quite
restored; and he resumed his sing-song. "Any advance on fifty thousand
dollars? No advance on fifty thousand? No advance, gentlemen? Going at
fifty thousand, the wreck of the brig Flying Scud--going--going--gone!"

"My God, Jim, can we pay the money?" I cried, as the stroke of the
hammer seemed to recall me from a dream.

"It's got to be raised," said he, white as a sheet. "It'll be a hell of
a strain, Loudon. The credit's good for it, I think; but I shall have to
get around. Write me a cheque for your stuff. Meet me at the Occidental
in an hour."

I wrote my cheque at a desk, and I declare I could never have recognised
my signature. Jim was gone in a moment; Trent had vanished even earlier;
only Bellairs remained exchanging insults with the auctioneer; and,
behold! as I pushed my way out of the exchange, who should run full tilt
into my arms, but the messenger boy?

It was by so near a margin that we became the owners of the Flying Scud.

CHAPTER X. IN WHICH THE CREW VANISH.

At the door of the exchange I found myself along-side of the short,
middle-aged gentleman who had made an appearance, so vigorous and so
brief, in the great battle.

"Congratulate you, Mr. Dodd," he said. "You and your friend stuck to
your guns nobly."

"No thanks to you, sir," I replied, "running us up a thousand at a time,
and tempting all the speculators in San Francisco to come and have a
try."

"O, that was temporary insanity," said he; "and I thank the higher
powers I am still a free man. Walking this way, Mr. Dodd? I'll walk
along with you. It's pleasant for an old fogy like myself to see the
young bloods in the ring; I've done some pretty wild gambles in my time
in this very city, when it was a smaller place and I was a younger man.
Yes, I know you, Mr. Dodd. By sight, I may say I know you extremely
well, you and your followers, the fellows in the kilts, eh? Pardon me.
But I have the misfortune to own a little box on the Saucelito shore.
I'll be glad to see you there any Sunday--without the fellows in kilts,
you know; and I can give you a bottle of wine, and show you the best
collection of Arctic voyages in the States. Morgan is my name--Judge
Morgan--a Welshman and a forty-niner."

"O, if you're a pioneer," cried I, "come to me and I'll