I
finished my cigarette with the deliberation of a man at
the end of many picnics; reflecting to myself that of
all forms of the dollar-hunt, this wrecking had by far
the most address to my imagination. Even as I went
down town, in the brisk bustle and chill of the
familiar San Francisco thoroughfares, I was haunted by
a vision of the wreck, baking so far away in the strong
sun, under a cloud of sea-birds; and even then, and for
no better reason, my heart inclined towards the
adventure. If not myself, something that was mine,
some one at least in my employment, should voyage to
that ocean-bounded pin-point and descend to that
deserted cabin.
Pinkerton met me at the appointed moment, pinched of
lip, and more than usually erect of bearing, like one
conscious of great resolves.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well," said he, "it might be better, and it might be
worse. This Captain Trent is a remarkably honest
fellow--one out of a thousand. As soon as he knew I
was in the market, he owned up about the rice in so
many words. By his calculation, if there's thirty mats
of it saved, it's an outside figure.
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