other was a caution.

“You will go monkeyin’ with my brass, will ye?” Naboth hollered. “You hip-shouldered, bow-legged, cow-eyed wampus! Hain’t I told you time and again that I’d chaw ye up if I ketched you layin’ a rag to that rail? Eh? What d’you know about polishin’ brass, you soup-stirrin’, apple-stewin’ whang-doodle?”

“You hit me with that there rag, and I calc’late to show you. I was polishin’ brass when you was cuttin’ eye teeth. I know more about brass polishin’ in a minute than you do in a year. I got a right to shine brass if I want to. Hain’t I part of this here crew, you leather-necked ol’ turtle?”

“They’re at it again,” says Mr. Browning. “Been at it just like that ever since anybody ever heard of them. They always ship on the same yacht. You can’t separate them, but they never do a thing but fight. Next row’ll be because Naboth pokes his nose into the galley. Rameses thinks he’s a sailorman, and Naboth believes he’s a cook.”

“Why not let them swap jobs,” says Catty.

“Some day I’m going to try it,” says Mr. Browning, and then the noise got so loud he turned and yelled at the men. “Hey,” he says, “stop the noise or I’ll heave you both overboard. You get below Rameses III and get lunch. You Naboth, get things stowed away shipshape in the lazarette.”

They quit in a second and Rameses III ducked below. I turned to look behind, and there was the black yacht, not more than half a mile behind, cutting through the water as business-like as could be.

Catty motioned to me and jerked his head aft. I saw he wanted to say something to me, so I got up and went to the after deck and he came along in a minute.

“Hear that talk?” says he.

“Not being deaf,” says I, “I did.”

“What did you make out of it?”

“Nothing,” says I, “unless Mr. Topper is crazy, or he’s running away from somebody with something.”

“Um. He doesn’t look crazy to me.”

“That settles it then,” says I, kind of sarcastic.

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