tists among cabinet-makers and a
knowledgeable man to put the furniture on the market, a reasonable
fortune was to be made. With skill it could be propagated: but for
two generations and longer it must depend on its rarity. He added
some suggestions for propagating it and wound up, "Turn these over,
for what they are worth, to someone who understands this climate and
is botanist as well as nurseryman. It won't profit you or me, Ned;
and we've no children. Mr. Weekes has, though"--Weekes was the
skipper--"and his grandchildren ought to have something to inherit.
I'd hate to die and think that such stuff was being lost to the
trade. But for the standing timber, anyway, there's only one word.
_Buy_. Yours gratefully, P. Farrell."

When his report was written and signed, he handed it to Weekes.
"We can mail this, if you approve," he said.

Weekes read it over and approved the document. "But I don't approve
mailing it," he assured Farrell. "No, sirree: your boss has a name
for playing straight, but we won't give him all that time and
temptation. We'll go back and hand him this together--for you come
into it, I guess, on some floor or other."

"No," said Farrell. "The report's as good as it promises; but I'm
out of this job. The only favour you can do me is to help me shift
down this coast--as far as Colon, for instance. And I owe it to
Renton, of course, to mail this letter. With your knowledge of the
boats and trains, you can get to New York along with it or even ahead
of it."

"That's all very well, so far as it goes," said Weekes, thoughtfully;
"and I see your point. But again, what about _you_?"

"Ah, to be sure," answered Farrell, pondering in his turn.
"There's the risk of leaving me behind to chip in on you both.
Well . . . You don't run any whalers from this port, do you?"

"Whalers?" Captain Weekes opened his eyes.

"I understand," Farrell explained, "that they keep out at sea for a
considerable time. . . . No, and it wouldn't help your confidence if
I told you that there's a man in New York--an Englishman like
myself--hunting me for my life. . . . But see here. Of your
knowledge find me a southward bound vessel that, once out, certainly
won't make port for a fortnight. We'll mail this report from the
Quay, and you can put me on board at the last moment, watch me waving
farewells from the offing, and then hurry north as soon as you
please."

Well, this, or something like it, was agreed