tle Spanish girl
sang?"

"It had the same general idea," I admitted.

"There you are, sir," Gates announced, with a satisfied air. "So there
isn't a thing unusual about your dream, arfter all. It's as reasonable
as the general run."

Monsieur did not relish having his big occult smoke blown away in this
fashion; he looked at us with rather a sickish expression, as a boy
might have if someone stuck a pin in his toy balloon. But it was such a
relief to get back to practicalities that we let him sulk.

"Jack," Tommy asked, "do you think her real name is Sylvia?"

"Yes; I'm sure of that, anyhow!"

"How're you sure of it?"

"It fits her so absolutely," I answered with decision.

"But Revenge would fit her, too, wouldn't it? That's sweet," he grinned.

"Or Constancy," the professor smiled, for once becoming inspired as he
threw off his grouch.

"Try Ignorance!" This again from Tommy, who made an attempt to look
blissful and only succeeded in making himself ridiculous, I thought.

Old Gates now stretched, cocked an eye up at the weather and, in a
drawl, asked:

"Would it be supposing a great deal, sir, to suggest that the lady might
be named Much-Learning?"

Whereupon we laughed uproariously, and Tommy slapped him on the knee,
exclaiming:

"Papa Gates, you've hit it! Truly, she hath made us mad!"

"All the same," I cried, arising and laughing down at them, "there's one
thing you can't explain away! The big adventure's come at last!--the
wildest chase----"

"Love chase," Tommy interposed.

"Chase," I repeated, "that man ever started! Are you fellows game enough
to see it through--to the very end?"

"_Are_ we?" Tommy yelled, springing to his feet. "To the very end! What
say, Gates?--Professor?"

"To the very end, sir," the old skipper's face beamed happily.

"Why, yes, my boys," Monsieur declared. "To the very
end,--_certainement!_"

And Gates must have confided this to the crew, for later, as I passed
the mate, that worthy gave his forelock a pull and whispered:

"To the very end, sir!"

It pleased me immensely.

CHAPTER VI

A VOICE FROM THE WATER

A perfect tropical night crept down on us, with the sky a deep and
velvety blue, and the stars low enough to touch. Brilliant
phosphorescence dashed from our bow and a silvery streak trailed in our
wake emphasizing the enchantment as the _Whim_ rose, leaned, and dipped
over the bosom of the breathing Gulf. So, also, were my hopes; now up,