y forestalled Wilbur's intention; while after her almost
miraculous piece of seamanship in the rescue of the schooner,
Charlie and the Chinese crew accorded her a respect that was almost
superstitious.

Wilbur met her again at breakfast. She was still wearing men's
clothing--part of Kitchell's outfit--and was booted to the knee; but now
she wore no hat, and her enormous mane of rye-colored hair was braided
into long strands near to the thickness of a man's arm. The redness of
her face gave a startling effect to her pale blue eyes and sandy, heavy
eyebrows, that easily lowered to a frown. She ate with her knife, and
after pushing away her plate Wilbur observed that she drank half a
tumbler of whiskey and water.

The conversation between the two was tame enough. There was no common
ground upon which they could meet. To her father's death--no doubt an
old matter even before her rescue--she made no allusion. Her attitude
toward Wilbur was one of defiance and suspicion. Only once did she
relax:

"How did you come to be aboard here with these rat-eaters--you're no
sailor?" she said abruptly.

"Huh!" laughed Wilbur, mirthlessly; "huh! I was shanghaied."

Moran smote the table with a red fist, and shouted with sonorous,
bell-toned laughter.

"Shanghaied?--you? Now, that is really good. And what are you going to
do now?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Signal the first home-bound vessel and be taken into Frisco. I've my
insurance to collect (Wilbur had given her the 'Letty's' papers) and the
disaster to report."

"Well, I'm not keen on shark-hunting myself," said Wilbur. But Moran
showed no interest in his plans.

However, they soon found that they were not to be permitted to signal.
At noon the same day the schooner sighted a steamship's smoke on the
horizon, and began to raise her rapidly. Moran immediately bound on the
ensign, union down, and broke it out at the peak.

Charlie, who was at the wheel, spoke a sentence in Chinese, and one of
the hands drew his knife across the halyards and brought the distress
signal to the deck. Moran turned upon Charlie with an oath, her brows
knitted.

"No! No!" sang Charlie, closing his eyes and wagging his head. "No!
Too muchee los' time; no can stop. You come downside cabin; you an'
one-piece boss number two (this was Wilbur) have um chin-chin."

The odd conclave assembled about Kitchell's table--the club-man, the
half-masculine girl in men's clothes, and the Chinaman. The