nd laughed involuntarily.

"Evidently the poor man is so overcome by sea-sickness that he doesn't
know what he is doing and needs a nurse!" she exclaimed. "Shall I call
for a steward?"

She slewed her chair round as she spoke, and laughed again as Don
Carlos, suddenly deprived of the support of her knees, fell backward.
He did not seem in the least disconcerted, however, and merely rolled
over on his side, supported his head on one hand, and gazed up at Myra
quizzically.

"That was rather the equivalent of unfastening the bolt of the rail,
was it not, Myra?" he drawled. "I hope you will now proceed to rescue
me from the slough of despond by telling me that you love me and will
marry me?"

"You said once that I would be a suitable mate for El--er--what's his
name?--El Cojuelo Diablo, isn't it?--your pet brigand, I mean,"
retorted Myra. "Now you are presumably suggesting that I am a fit mate
for a man guilty of attempted murder!"

Don Carlos smiled enigmatically.

"El Diablo Cojuelo is the correct name, Myra," he said in the same
lazy, unmoved tone. "If I fail to conquer you and teach you the
meaning of love, perhaps El Diablo Cojuelo will. Beloved, I should
love to rest my head against your knees and feel your fingers caressing
my hair."

"Don't be so utterly ridiculous!" exclaimed Myra.

"In novels, as you know," went on Don Carlos, paying no heed to her
protest, "the fair heroine usually marries the gallant who rescues her,
or her half-witted brother, or her aged parent, from drowning. You can
give the plot a new turn by marrying me for saving your lover from
drowning. Mr. Standish was good enough to say that it was 'demmed
sporty of me' to rescue him and that he owes me his life. Why not
suggest to him, Myra, that he can best show his gratitude by
surrendering to me his greatest pride and treasure--you?"

"Your audacity is only equalled by your conceit," Myra commented. "Let
me warn you----"

"Let me warn you, you siren, that I shall go to any lengths to win
you," interrupted Don Carlos with sudden passion. "This morning's
incident was a warning to prove to you I am in earnest. Dios! why do
you torture me so? At times you make me hate you almost as much as I
love you!"

He sprang to his feet, picked up the cushion on which he had been
reclining and hurled it overboard, then strode away without another
word, leaving Myra thrilled and more than a little scared.

"It rather looks as if I shal