d I shall
greatly appreciate the pleasure of your companionship. New arrangements
also will be necessary in the matter of a boat and men."

"We've been wondering about getting another boat and a new crew,"
Knowlton said, frankly. "The canoe we have is too big for three men to
handle, and I'll admit we're tired. Jose, too, is in no shape to travel
yet--"

"Jose, of course, is my guest also," the old gentleman interrupted. "The
question of new men can be solved. But there is time for everything, and
now is the time for all of you to rest. As our proverb has it, '_Devagar
se vae ao longe_'--he goes far who goes slowly."

McKay arose, glass in hand.

"To our host," he bowed. The toast was drunk standing. Whereafter the
host tapped the bell twice and 'Tonio reappeared with a tray of fresh
glasses. A toast to the United States by the coronel followed, and as
soon as the black man arrived with a third round the Republic of Brazil
was pledged. Then the coronel directed the servant:

"'Tonio, if Pedro and Lourenco are outside, ask them to move the
belongings of the gentlemen from the canoe. And make ready rooms for the
guests."

'Tonio disappeared down the ladder. The coronel raised the violin,
tendered it to the others, accepted their pleas to play it himself, and
for the next half hour acquitted himself with no mean ability. Snatches
of long-forgotten operas and improvisations of his own flowed from the
strings in smooth harmony, hinting at bygone years amid far different
surroundings for which his soul now hungered and to which he would
return. Pedro and Lourenco, transporting the equipment, passed in and
out soft-footed and almost unnoticed. At length the player, with a
deprecatory smile and a half apology for "boring his guests," extended
the instrument again toward the visitors. And McKay, silent McKay, took
it.

Sweet and low, out welled the haunting melody of "Annie Laurie." Tim,
who had listened with casual interest to the coronel's music, now
grinned happily. And when the plaintive Scotch song became "Kathleen
Mavourneen" he closed his eyes and lay back in pure enjoyment. "The
River Shannon" flowed into "The Suwanee River," and this in turn blended
into other heart-tugging airs of Dixieland. When the last strain died
and the captain reached for his half-smoked cigar the room was silent
for minutes.

Then, to the astonishment of all, Jose spoke:

"Senores, there was a time when I, too, could draw music from