“What steam vessels have you got now?” Kelton queried interestedly.

“Only one at present, Mr. Kelton.  We’ve acquired the Tillicum, late of the Blue Star fleet.”

“Indeed!” replied Kelton.

He was all attention now; for, though Matt Peasley did not know it, less than ten days previous Kelton had tried to charter the Tillicum direct from Cappy Ricks, who, knowing something of the financial condition of Morrow & Company, had declined to consider a charter unless under a guaranty of payment other than that of Morrow & Company.  Kelton was in urgent need of a steamer to cope with the congestion of freight, and the Tillicum suited the purpose of his company admirably; hence, the news that he might still be able to acquire her filled him with sudden hope.

“Indeed!” he reiterated.  “I had no idea Cappy Ricks contemplated selling her, though it has been common talk on the street that he made a mistake in building such a big boat as the Tillicum for the coastwise lumber trade.  She was too hard to find business for, and I dare say he was sick of his bargain.”

“Well, I thought we’d take a chance on her,” Matt replied, not taking the trouble to disabuse Kelton of the impression to which he had apparently jumped—­to wit, that the Pacific Shipping Company had purchased the Tillicum.

“What do you intend doing with her?” Kelton continued.

“They tell me business is good on the Panama run, and it will be better when the Canal is opened.  However, until the Canal does open, we would prefer to keep out of the Pacific Coast trade.  Competition always means a rate war, with consequent loss to both parties to the struggle; so we’d rather charter the Tillicum for a year if we could.  I heard you were in the market for a boat.”

“I think we might use the Tillicum,” Kelton replied.  “What are you asking for her?”

Matt named a figure considerably in advance of what he expected to receive and stipulated a bare-boat charter—­that is to say, Kelton’s company should pay the entire cost of operating the vessel, and select her crew and officers with the exception of the captain and chief engineer, it being customary among many owners, when chartering a vessel, to stipulate that their own captain, in whom they have confidence, shall command her.  Cappy Ricks always specified his own skipper and chief engineer.

When Matt named his figure Kelton promptly shouted “Thief!” but made the mistake of shouting too loud—­whereat Matt Peasley knew he was not sincere and promptly decided to outgame him.  At the end of half an hour of argument and much futile figuring, which deceived nobody, Matt abated his price twenty-five dollars a day and Kelton said he would think it over.  Matt knew the charter was as good as closed, and when he left Morrow & Company’s office he repaired straight to that of Cappy Ricks.

“I think I’ll be able to recharter, Mr. Ricks,” he said confidently.  “Have you any objection to Morrow & Company as recharterers?”