Shall we search for him ?" "Search for the de'il!" thundered Campbell.

"Harrigan is doing a fine piece of work for me; shall I let him go to the fireroom to swing a shovel ?" "The captain's orders, sir," persisted the voice rashly.
Campbell leaped for the door and jerked it open a few inches.
"Be off!" he cried; "or I'll set you passin' coal yourself, my fine lad! What?
Will ye be asking questions?
Is there no discipline?
Mutiny, mutiny--that's what this is!" "Aye, aye, sir!" murmured a rapidly retreating voice.
Campbell closed and locked the door and turned back to Harrigan with a grin.
"The world's a wide place," he said, "but there's few enough in it who know our Bobbie, God bless him! When I've found one, shall I let him go down to the fireroom?
Ha! Now tell me what's wrong between you and McTee." "I will not talk," said Harrigan with another bold stroke of diplomacy, "till I hear the rest of that song.

The true Scotch comes hard on my tongue, but I'll learn it." "You will, laddie, for your heart's right.

Man, man, I'm nothing now, but you should have heard me sing in the old days--" "When we were in Glasgow," grinned Harrigan.
"In Glasgow," repeated Campbell, and then lifted his head and finished the song.

"Now for the story, laddie." Harrigan started, as though recalled from a dream built up by the music.