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{{frabfp080.png}} || eagles of the sky ||

any longer, partner," Perk suggested. "The canvas
is all clewed up or reefed, whatever they call
it, so we won't have it flappin' around after the
ship gets under way. Say the word, Boss, an'
leave the rest to me."

"But nothing has been said as to what port
we're meaning to strike out for," observed Jack,
and that's a matter of considerable importance.
First of all it would be apt to queer our business
some if we sailed openly into Tampa, St. Petersburg,
or even Key West; for some of those smart
newspaper reporters would be bound to get on to
the facts and like as not we'd have our pictures
printed in all the papers. A fat chance we'd
stand to do any more work ripping this contraband
conspiracy up the back, after _they_ got
through telling things."

"Well, I guess now that would queer our
game, wouldn't it, partner?" bleated the annoyed
Perk, then brightening up as he eyed his chum
in a suggestive fashion as though anticipating
further interesting remarks along that particular
line, he went on to add: "S'pose I'm let into the
plan I know you've got all fixed up for us to
foller."

"All things considered," began Jack, thus
urged, "I reckon it would be the best scheme if
ocr>   vre managed to get the rum-runner anchored
fix>   we managed to get the rum-runner anchored
back in that big bunch of mangrove islands on

[[80]]

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