"How 's that?" cried 'Frisco Kid, as he finished making the Dazzler fast fore¹ and aft, and sat down on the stringpiece of the tiny wharf². "What 'll we do next, captain?"  
Joe looked up in quick surprise. "Why—I—what 's the matter?"
 
"Well, ain't you captain now? Have n't we reached land? I 'm crew from now on, ain't I? What 's your orders?"
 
Joe caught the spirit of it. "Pipe all hands for breakfast—that is—wait a minute."
 
Diving below, he possessed³ himself of the money he had stowed away in his bundle when he came aboard. Then he locked the cabin door, and they went uptown in search of a restaurant. Over the breakfast Joe planned the next move, and, when they had done, communicated it to 'Frisco Kid.
 
In response to his inquiry⁴, the cashier told him when the morning train started for San Francisco. He glanced at the clock.
 
"Just time to catch it," he said to 'Frisco Kid. "Keep the cabin doors locked, and don't let anybody come aboard. Here 's money. Eat at the restaurants. Dry your blankets and sleep in the cockpit. I 'll be back to-morrow. And don't let anybody into that cabin. Good-by."
 
With a hasty hand-grip, he sped down the street to the depot⁵. The conductor looked at him with surprise when he punched his ticket. And well he might, for it was not the custom of his passengers to travel in sea-boots and sou'westers. But Joe did not mind. He did not even notice. He had bought a paper and was absorbed in its contents. Before long his eyes caught an interesting paragraph:
 
SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN LOST
 
The tug⁶ Sea Queen, chartered by Bronson & Tate, has returned from a fruitless cruise outside the Heads. No news of value could be obtained concerning the pirates who so daringly carried off their safe at San Andreas last Tuesday night. The lighthouse-keeper at the Farralones mentions having sighted the two sloops⁷ Wednesday morning, clawing offshore⁸ in the teeth of the gale⁹. It is supposed by shipping¹⁰ men that they perished in the storm with, their ill-gotten treasure. Rumor¹¹ has it that, in addition to the ten thousand dollars in gold, the safe contained papers of great importance.
 
When Joe had read this he felt a great relief. It was evident no one had been killed at San Andreas the night of the robbery, else there would have been some comment on it in the paper. Nor, if they had had any clue to his own whereabouts, would they have omitted such a striking bit of information.
 
At the depot in San Francisco the curious onlookers¹² were surprised to see a boy clad conspicuously¹³ in sea-boots and sou'wester hail a cab and dash away. But Joe was in a hurry. He knew his father's hours, and was fearful lest he should not catch him before he went to lunch.
 
The office-boy scowled¹⁴ at him when he pushed open the door and asked to see Mr. Bronson; nor could the head clerk, when summoned by this disreputable intruder, recognize him.
 
"Don't you know me, Mr. Willis?"
 
Mr. Willis looked a second time. "Why, it 's Joe Bronson! Of all things under the sun, where did you drop from? Go right in. Your father 's in there."
 
Mr. Bronson stopped dictating¹⁵ to his stenographer¹⁶ and looked up. "Hello! Where have you been?" he said.
 
"To sea," Joe answered demurely¹⁷, not sure of just what kind of a reception he was to get, and fingering his sou'wester nervously¹⁸.
 
"Short trip, eh? How did you make out?"
 
"Oh, so-so." He had caught the twinkle in his father's eye and knew that it was all clear sailing. "Not so bad—er—that is, considering."
 
"Considering?"
 
"Well, not exactly that; rather, it might have been worse, while it could n't have been better."
 
"That 's interesting. Sit down." Then, turning to the stenographer: "You may go, Mr. Brown, and—hum!—I won't need you any more to-day."
 
It was all Joe could do to keep from crying, so kindly¹⁹ and naturally had his father received him, making him feel at once as if not the slightest thing uncommon²⁰ had occurred. It seemed as if he had just returned from a vacation, or, man-grown, had come back from some business trip.
 
"Now go ahead, Joe. You were speaking to me a moment ago in conundrums²¹, and you have aroused my curiosity to a most uncomfortable degree."
 
Whereupon Joe sat down and told what had happened—all that had happened—from Monday night to that very moment. Each little incident he related,—every detail,—not forgetting his conversations with 'Frisco Kid nor his plans concerning him. His face flushed and he was carried away with the excitement of the narrative²², while Mr. Bronson was almost as eager, urging him on whenever he slackened his pace, but otherwise remaining silent.
 
"So you see," Joe concluded, "it could n't possibly have turned out any better."
 
"Ah, well," Mr. Bronson deliberated judiciously²³, "it may be so, and ............