want to go with her, when she called. He
would rather stay down at the boat with papa. Dolores had to start off
alone, and the two men stood gazing after her beautiful figure, as, with
a graceful swinging of hips and shoulders, it vanished in the distance.
Tonet hung-around till after dark, swapping stories and banter with
_tio_ Batiste, and discussing the great catch with the men of the crew.
He did not leave till the "cat" began to get supper ready on board the
_Mayflower_.

Left to himself, Pascualo began to walk up and down the beach, his hands
stuffed into his sash, and the legs of his oilskins rasping noisily as
they rubbed together. The shore was quite dark. Here and there a stove
could be seen glowing on the deck of some boat, blinking as the figure
of a sailor passed in front of it. The sea was shrouded in deep gloom,
marked by an occasional flash of phosphorescence. The surf was trickling
in with a barely audible moan. Softened by the distance came the voices
of some "cats" singing as they made their way toward the Cabanal and
stirred some dog to bark along the road. A faint band of reddish light
still loitered above the horizon where the sun had sunk behind the
housetops.

The Rector did not like that reddish after-glow. His experience at sea
had taught him to see in it the signs of unsettled weather. But that
thought did not concern him long. The joy of the successful trip was too
insistent still. No, things were going well, weren't they! Few men in
the world with more reason to be thankful than he! A pretty home! A
delicious and a frugal wife! The prospect of building another boat,
before the year was out, to go in team with the _Mayflower_! And then a
boy after his own heart! Pascualet took to salt water like a mackerel!
Why, in time that youngster would be the best captain along shore!
Better off, far, than the happy man in the story who didn't have a shirt
to his back! He wouldn't have to worry about cold weather--nor rainy
days! And there would be a bit left over for old age!

Gloating over his good fortune, Pascualo quickened his lumbering pace as
a corpulent sea-dog, and rubbed his hands with satisfaction. But in the
darkness ahead of him a figure suddenly appeared, advancing slowly in
his direction. Only a woman! Some beggar, probably, making the rounds of
the fleet to pick up a spare fish here and there! And so it goes! How
many poor devils there are in the world! Why shouldn't a fellow do a
lit