st of 'em that use the sea). If Dan sees fit, Mr. Cheyne, he can
go--fer all o' me."

"She jest despises the ocean," Disko explained, "an' I--I dunno haow to
act polite, I guess, er I'd thank you better."

"My father--my own eldest brother--two nephews--an' my second sister's
man," she said, dropping her head on her hand. "Would you care fer any
one that took all those?"

Cheyne was relieved when Dan turned up and accepted with more delight
than he was able to put into words. Indeed, the offer meant a plain and
sure road to all desirable things; but Dan thought most of commanding
watch on broad decks, and looking into far-away harbours.

Mrs. Cheyne had spoken privately to the unaccountable Manuel in the
matter of Harvey's rescue. He seemed to have no desire for money.
Pressed hard, he said that he would take five dollars, because he
wanted to buy something for a girl. Otherwise--"How shall I take money
when I make so easy my eats and smokes? You will giva some if I like or
no? Eh, wha-at? Then you shall giva me money, but not that way. You
shall giva all you can think." He introduced her to a snuffy Portuguese
priest with a list of semi-destitute widows as long as his cassock. As
a strict Unitarian, Mrs. Cheyne could not sympathize with the creed,
but she ended by respecting the brown, voluble little man.

Manuel, faithful son of the Church, appropriated all the blessings
showered on her for her charity. "That letta me out," said he. "I have
now ver' good absolutions for six months"; and he strolled forth to get
a handkerchief for the girl of the hour and to break the hearts of all
the others.

Salters went West for a season with Penn, and left no address behind.
He had a dread that these millionary people, with wasteful private
cars, might take undue interest in his companion. It was better to
visit inland relatives till the coast was clear. "Never you be adopted
by rich folk, Penn," he said in the cars, "or I'll take 'n' break this
checker-board over your head. Ef you forgit your name agin--which is
Pratt--you remember you belong with Salters Troop, an' set down right
where you are till I come fer you. Don't go taggin' araound after them
whose eyes bung out with fatness, accordin' to Scripcher."

CHAPTER X

But it was otherwise with the _We're Here's_ silent cook, for he came
up, his kit in a handkerchief, and boarded the "Constance." Pay was no
particular object, and he did not in the least care where h