in time."

Already the crowd is lessened and some have given up going even to San
Jose, and several have made the trip in the barrel and are safely
landed in the lighter.

"I think we won't run any risk," says Mrs. Steele gently, "though we
can go to San Jose, of course."

"Madame, I do assure you," and the Baron is most emphatic, "if you
vill trust to go vidth me I see dthat you come safe back before _San
Miguel_ sails."

The second mate comes up with an amused look.

"You ladies jest go 'long; th' Cap'n's alwus like that; nobuddy
minds. We can't get away under two days, and he knows it. We ain't
'lowed to leave under forty-eight hours on 'count o' passengers from
the coast."

That settles it, and each in turn we go spinning down in the barrel
and sit on piles of freight in the unsteady lighter. The Mexican
oarsmen stand up and propel the boat through the surf with long oars.
It is rougher than it looks, and I suffer my first touch of
sea-sickness. We understand why we are anchored so far away, and why
the huge iron pier running out from San Jose extends such a distance
seawards. I am quite faint and miserable when we reach the landing.
The Baron is still so consumed with rage at the Captain's
"interference," he has no eyes, happily, for my pitiable condition. I
look about disconsolately for the barrel elevator, for the pier is far
above our heads, and the great waves are dashing us against its iron
side. To Mrs. Steele's horror, we perceive a sort of iron cage is
employed in the process of elevation at this end of the journey, and
soon we three are swinging in mid-air between the angry waves and the
iron pier.

"Oh!" I say, breathlessly, clutching at Mrs. Steele, "what _would_
Uncle John say if he could see me now?"

"He would probably advise you to follow his example and make your
observations from the _outside_ of the cage."

I've observed that Mrs. Steele is sometimes lacking in sympathy at
trying moments.

At last we are landed, and at the end of the long pier we find a
narrow-gauge train--strange, primitive little cars and very dirty
withal. We make ourselves as comfortable as possible--opening the
windows and each one occupying a double seat, for the carriage is only
half full.

"It's not more than seventy miles, I believe," says Mrs. Steele, "but
it takes five hours to get there; it's an up-hill grade all the way."

"Five hours!" I repeat, dismayed. "Oh, why did no one tell me that
before? I h