backward turn of her vivid,
laughing face.

IV

Like daughter like father. Tom, too, had been irresistible. All the
world still called to him, and strange men came from time to time with
its messages. Never had there been such visitors to the Travers home.
Some came with the reminiscent roll of the sea in their gait. Others
were black-browed ruffians; still others were fever-burnt and sallow;
and about all of them was something bizarre and outlandish. Their talk
was likewise bizarre and outlandish, of things to Frederick unguessed
and undreamed, though he recognised the men for what they were--soldiers
of fortune, adventurers, free lances of the world. But the big patent
thing was the love and loyalty they bore their leader. They named him
variously?--Black Tom, Blondine, Husky Travers, Malemute Tom,
Swiftwater Tom--but most of all he was Captain Tom. Their projects and
propositions were equally various, from the South Sea trader with the
discovery of a new guano island and the Latin-American with a nascent
revolution on his hands, on through Siberian gold chases and the
prospecting of the placer benches of the upper Kuskokeem, to darker
things that were mentioned only in whispers. And Captain Tom regretted
the temporary indisposition that prevented immediate departure with
them, and continued to sit and drowse more and more in the big chair. It
was Polly, with a camaraderie distasteful to her uncle, who got these
men aside and broke the news that Captain Tom would never go out on the
shining ways again. But not all of them came with projects. Many made
love-calls on their leader of old and unforgetable days, and Frederick
sometimes was a witness to their meeting, and he marvelled anew at the
mysterious charm in his brother that drew all men to him.

"By the turtles of Tasman!" cried one, "when I heard you was in
California, Captain Tom, I just had to come and shake hands. I reckon
you ain't forgot Tasman, eh?--nor the scrap at Thursday Island.
Say--old Tasman was killed by his niggers only last year up German New
Guinea way. Remember his cook-boy?--Ngani-Ngani? He was the ringleader.
Tasman swore by him, but Ngani-Ngani hatcheted him just the same."

"Shake hands with Captain Carlsen, Fred," was Tom's introduction of his
brother to another visitor. "He pulled me out of a tight place on the
West Coast once. I'd have cashed in, Carlsen, if you hadn't happened
along."

Captain Carlsen was a giant hulk of a man, w