n board at six.
Framtree was brought to the meeting. Celestino Rey was beguiled from
his _Pleiad_ throne, and helped to a seat in this floating Elba. Here,
too, came the Sorensons and the Chinese--mob-stuff. There is a mob in
every drama--poor mob that always loses, of untimely arousings, mere
bewildered strength in the wiles of strategy. Poor undone mob--its head
always in the lap of Wit, to be shorn like Samson.... And the
Glow-worm--that incomparable female facing the South, her great yellow
smoldering eyes, filled with the dusky Southern Sea, and who knows what
lights and lovers of Buenos Aires, flitting across her dreams?... Had
there been absolute need for an ally, Miss Mallory could almost have
trusted the Senora.

"We didn't care to heat up the cabin from the galley," Senor Rey
declared as they descended for supper, "so I have had our repast
prepared at _The Pleiad_, save, of course, the coffee. You will not
miss for once the _entree_, if the cold roast fowl is prime, I am sure.
There are compensations."

"Miss an _entree_!" Miss Mallory exclaimed. "I could live a week on
pickles and lettuce-leaves, to stay at sea in such weather!"

"Astonishingly fine sailor is Miss Mallory," the Spaniard enthused.
"She talked ship with me like a pirate, and knew my _Savonarola_ from
boom to steering gear at a glance. You all must thank Miss Mallory for
our little excursion to-night."

The lady in question wondered if the forecastle-door were proof against
the voices in the cabin. She did not turn her eyes to it, but happened
to note that the Spaniard caught a glance from Jim Framtree, as he
spoke his last words; also that Framtree arose, looked aft from the
cabin doorway, and turned back with a smile. Miss Mallory followed his
eyes a moment later and discovered that Dictator Jaffier's gunboat had
moved. Steam was up; her nose was pointed their way; more still, she
was leisurely trailing! Senor Rey did not miss the American woman's
interest.

"The Dictator is always so good about giving the _Savonarola_ armed
convoy," he said.

Miss Mallory became deeply thoughtful, but roused herself, realizing it
did not become her in this company. She imagined that the great yellow
eyes of the Glow-worm were regarding her with queer contemplative
scrutiny. Sorenson felt the call to remark something, and the
_Savonarola_ was obvious.

"Fine little craft for a honeymoon," he observed, "that is, of course,
if the lady in question enjo