on the Berkeley tide flats,
an' at lowtide to-morrow we'll go over an' find out what we've
got. Don't even know her name yet. She's practically submerged."

"I think you was awful foolish, Gib, buyin' a pig in a poke that
way. I don't believe in goin' it blind. Me an' Mac's bought a
real ship. We own the _Victor_."

"I'm dead on my feet," growled the commodore, and jumping into
bed he refused to discuss the matter further and was sound asleep
in a jiffy.

Mr. Gibney was up bright and early and aroused the syndicate to
action. The tide would be at its lowest ebb at nine thirty-one
and the commodore figured that his fortune would be lying well
exposed on the Berkeley tide flats. He engaged a diver and a
small gasoline launch, and after an early breakfast in a
chop-house on the Embarcadero they started for the wreck.

They were within half a mile of it, heading right into the eye of
the wind, when Captain Scraggs and McGuffey stood erect in the
launch simultaneously and sniffed like a pair of--well, sea-dogs.

"Dead whale," suggested McGuffey.

"I hope it ain't Gib's fortune," replied Scraggs drily.

"Shut up," bellowed Mr. Gibney. He was sniffing himself by this
time, for as the launch swiftly approached the derelict the
unpleasant odour became more pronounced.

"Betcher that schooner was in collision with a steamer," Captain
Scraggs announced. "She was cut down right through the fo'castle
with the watch below sound asleep, an' this here fragrance
appeals to me as a sure sign of a job for the coroner."

The commodore shuddered. He was filled with vague misgivings,
but Neils Halvorsen grinned cheerfully. McGuffey got out a
cologne-scented handkerchief and clamped it across his nose.

"Well, if that's Gib's fortune, it must be filthy lucre," he
mumbled through the handkerchief. "Gib, what _have_ you hooked on
to? A public dump?"

Mr. Gibney's eyes flashed, but he made no reply. They had rounded
the schooner's stern now, and her name was visible.

"Schooner _Kadiak_, Seattle," read Scraggs. "Little old three
sticker a thousand years old an' cut clear through just abaft the
foremast. McGuffey, you don't s'pose this here's a pirate craft
an' just bulgin' with gold."

"Sure," retorted the engineer with a slow wink, "tainted wealth."

Mr. Gibney could stand their heckling no longer. "Looky here, you
two," he bawled angrily. "I got a hunch I picked up a lemon, but
I'm a-willin' to tackle the deal with Neils if