hout her--he did not know.
That was a question for later consideration.

"We'll give another cotillon!" exclaimed Ridgeway, "up in the city--give
it for you, Ross, and you'll lead. It'll be the event of the season!"

Wilbur uttered an exclamation of contempt. "I've done with that sort of
foolery," he answered.

"Nonsense; why, think, we'll have it in your honor. Every smart girl in
town will come, and you'll be the lion of--"

"You don't seem to understand!" cried Wilbur impatiently. "Do you think
there's any fun in that for me now? Why, man, I've fought--fought with a
naked dirk, fought with a coolie who snapped at me like an ape--and you
talk to me of dancing and functions and german favors! It wouldn't do
some of you people a bit of harm if you were shanghaied yourselves.
That sort of life, if it don't do anything else, knocks a big bit of
seriousness into you. You fellows make me sick," he went on vehemently.
"As though there wasn't anything else to do but lead cotillons and get
up new figures!"

"Well, what do you propose to do?" asked Nat Ridgeway. "Where are you
going now--back to Magdalena Bay?"

"No."

"Where, then?"

Wilbur smote the table with his fist.

"Cuba!" he cried. "I've got a crack little schooner out in the bay here,
and I've got a hundred thousand dollars' worth of loot aboard of her.
I've tried beach-combing for a while, and now I'll try filibustering.
It may be a crazy idea, but it's better than dancing. I'd rather lead an
expedition than a german, and you can chew on that, Nathaniel Ridgeway."

Jerry looked at him as he stood there before them in the filthy, reeking
blouse and jeans, the ragged boots, and the mane of hair and tangled
beard, and remembered the Wilbur he used to know--the Wilbur of the
carefully creased trousers, the satin scarfs and fancy waistcoats.

"You're a different sort than when you went away, Ross," said Jerry.

"Right you are," answered Wilbur.

"But I will venture a prophecy," continued Jerry, looking keenly at him.

"Ross, you are a born-and-bred city man. It's in the blood of you and
the bones of you. I'll give you three years for this new notion of yours
to wear itself out. You think just now you're going to spend the rest
of your life as an amateur buccaneer. In three years, at the outside,
you'll be using your 'loot,' as you call it, or the interest of it, to
pay your taxes and your tailor, your pew rent and your club dues,
and you'll be what the bi