ado to restrain a smile, but, assuming a grave aspect,
he addressed the man in French, while Disco listened with a look of
profound respect and admiration.

"W'y, wot's wrong with 'ee, man," exclaimed Disco, on observing the
blank look of Antonio's countenance; "don't 'ee savay that?"

"I thought you understood Portuguese?" said Harold in English.

"So me do," replied Antonio quickly; "but dat no Portigeese--dat
Spanaish, me 'spose."

"What _can_ you speak, then?" demanded Harold sternly.

"Portigeese, Arbik, Fengleesh, an' two, tree, four, nigger lungwiches."

It was very obvious that, whatever Antonio spoke, he spoke nothing
correctly, but that was of no importance so long as the man could make
himself understood. Harold therefore asked if he would join his party
as interpreter, but Antonio shook his head.

"Why not man--why not?" asked Harold impatiently, for he became anxious
to secure him, just in proportion as he evinced disinclination to
engage.

"Speak up, Antonio, don't be ashamed; you've no need to," said Disco.
"The fact is, sir, Antonio tells me that he has just bin married, an' he
don't want to leave his wife."

"Very natural," observed Harold. "How long is it since you were
married?"

"Von veek since I did bought her."

"Bought her!" exclaimed Disco, with a broad grin; "may I ax wot ye paid
for her?"

"Paid!" exclaimed the man, starting and opening his eyes very wide, as
if the contemplation of the vast sum were too much for him; "lat me
zee--me pay me vife's pairyints sixteen yard ob cottin clothe, an' for
me's hut four yard morer."

"Ye don't say that?" exclaimed Disco, with an extended grin. "Is she
young an' good-lookin'?"

"Yonge!" replied Antonio; "yis, ver' yonge; not mush more dan baby, an'
exiquitely bootiful."

"Then, my good feller," said Disco, with a laugh, "the sooner you leave
her the better. A week is a long time, an' absence, you know, as the
old song says, makes the heart grow fonder; besides, Mr Seadrift will
give you enough to buy a dozen wives, if 'ee want 'em."

"Yes, I'll pay you well," said Harold; "that is, if you prove to be a
good interpreter."

Antonio pricked up his ears at this.

"How mush vill 'oo gif?" he asked.

"Well, let me think; I shall probably be away three or four months.
What would you say, Antonio, to twenty yards of cotton cloth a month,
and a gun into the bargain at the end, if you do your work well?"

The pleased expression of Anto