h anchor at eight o'clock."

I finish a hasty toilet and follow Mrs. Steele on deck. The Baron is
waiting--he looks pale and rather graver than usual.

"Good-morning, Senorita," he says, and we shake hands. "Haf you
sleep?"

"Oh, yes," I say, accepting the coffee he has ordered. "I always
sleep."

The first faint flush of the coming splendour spreads above the hills
as we push off from the _San Miguel_. Deeper and deeper grow the
purple and the saffron till long shafts of golden light shoot up from
hilltop to high heaven, and the great red sun of the tropics peers an
instant over the mountain wall that shuts in Acapulco.

"This is a sunrise I think we shall never forget," says Mrs. Steele
with grave enjoyment.

The Baron and I say nothing.

The air blows cool and fresh, and we skirt the rugged beach, close to
the high-piled rocks at the water's edge, till we come to a cocoa
grove sheltering a few thatched cottages.

The Baron gives some direction to the boatman, and we are moored in
shallow water. The Mexican jumps out of the boat and disappears in the
grove. The water is so clear we have been able to see the bottom for a
long time, and now the Baron shows me how to use a boathook in
spearing the red starfish. We succeed in bringing up several, but they
turn brown when out of the water and are said to sting. So we throw
them back and turn to hear the Indian water-women singing and laughing
as they follow the winding, rugged path half way up the heights. The
red-brown feet and ankles must be as strong as they are shapely; the
arms holding aloft the water jars are well moulded and taper finely to
the wrist; splendid freedom is in every motion and a grace their
fairer sisters have forgotten. I see the admiration in Baron de Bach's
face.

"You like that type?" I ask.

"It ees part of dthe landscape," he answers; "ve like it in dthe
picture. Ve put more deeferent vomans in our hearts and homes."

"H'm!" coughs Mrs. Steele. "My dear, the boatman is coming back with a
huge bunch of cocoanuts."

"Yes," the Baron says, "I dthought you vould like to taste dthe
milk."

The Mexican rolls up his white trousers and wades back to the boat. He
pulls his naked knife out of his sash and begins to cut away the thick
green rind of the nut. That done, the Baron takes it from him and
shows us the three eyes at one end where the fibre is soft. When the
sharp point of the knife is inserted the liquid within spurts up into
th