ad scarcely a mouthful of breakfast."

"We haf another breakfast at Escuintla, mees, a gude one," says Senor
Noma, passing through our coach to the smoking-car. I am consoled and
full of interest at the prospect, as the dingy little train moves off.
Mrs. Steele and I are facing each other, while the Baron sits behind
me and points out the most noteworthy features of this notable
expedition. We are in the tropics truly; the heat is overpowering, and
the Baron leans over the back of my seat with my rough Mazatlan fan,
and uses it with a generous devotion that tires him and does not cool
me.

"Do fan yourself a little," I say. "You've been the colour of a
lobster ever since your interview with the Captain."

The Peruvian's brows contract--he looks ferocious in the extreme--and
I am a little sorry I mentioned the Captain.

"Dthat Capitan ees von fool! He know not how to treat a zhentleman. I
tell him I make a proces to dthe company and get him reprimand for how
he spik to me."

"Why, what did he say?" asks Mrs. Steele.

"He tell me I act like _I_ vas Capitan, dthen he call me 'damn.' I
tell him he vas a coachman!"

The Baron looks surprised and a bit resentful at our laughter.

"What made you call him a coachman?" Mrs. Steele is the first, as
usual, to pull a straight face.

"Madame forget I know not all Eenglish vords. I could dthink of
nodthing more vorse--I vas zo crazy vidth madness."

CHAPTER VI

[Illustration: Chapter Six]

THE BARANCA

"See the banana plantations! Oh, those date-palms!" Mrs. Steele leans
out of her window, full of delight at the curious panorama moving
past.

"Mrs. Steele!" I bend over and take her hand. "I hope all this will
never grow dim. I want to remember it all my life."

"You will, dear." She turns away absorbed, eager to lose nothing of
this new phase of Nature.

"Haf no fear--you vill not forget--Blanca."

The low voice over my shoulder is an interruption; to enjoy the gift
of sight is all-sufficient for a time. With happy disregard of the man
at my back, I take in the changeful, fantastic vision.

The adobe houses standing in orange groves, the long stretches of
jungle, wild tangles of rank growth, cactus, giant ferns, brake and
netted vines; birds of gorgeous plumage and discordant note,
alligators basking on the sunny bank of a sluggish stream,
half-dressed natives at work in coffee fincas, sugar-cane and cotton
fields; nude children standing in the doorwa