Oddly enough, I feel no indignation, but I open my lips for a denial.

"If you tell me not," he says excitedly, laying one hand on the rail
and looking greatly wrought-up, tragic and comical all at once, "if
you tell me not," he repeats, raising his voice, "I yump in dthe
vater."

I tighten my hold on his arm, trying not to let him see how much I
want to laugh.

"Of course, one loves one's friends; don't be silly."

A quick light leaps into the dark eyes. I am reproached and vaguely
uneasy at the sight of his gladness.

"I'm going back to Mrs. Steele; she doesn't like me to leave her so
long." I turn away and like a flash he is at my side. He draws my
hand through his arm, holding it against his heart. I can feel the
great leaps under the yachtman's gay jacket.

"Ah!" sighs the wearer, "I feel suffocate on dthis boat--it ees so
small, people eferywhere and you and I so leedle alone. Ah, ve vill
soon be at San Jose!"

"I don't see how that will mend matters." I am anxious to see what he
has in mind.

"Madame Steele vant to go to Guatemala."

"Yes, but so do most of the other passengers."

"From San Jose to Guatemala ees seventy mile, and dthe Paris of
Central America ees zomething more large dthan dthis _San Miguel_.
Much can happen before ve come back."

We join Mrs. Steele and talk over our plan.

The next day we arrive at Champerico, but no one goes ashore; we stay
so short a time.

The deck party breaks up early that night, everyone anxious to be
ready for the six o'clock breakfast call next morning.

"To-morrow ve air at San Jose de Guatemala, and much can happen before
ve see _San Miguel_ again." The Baron takes my hand at the saloon door
as I say good-night.

"That's the second time you've made that ominous remark, Baron de
Bach. What do you mean?"

"Baron de Bach!" he echoes. "My name ees 'Guillermo,' Blanca."

Somehow it doesn't seem so familiar or significant as if he said
"Blanche."

"What do you think will happen to us in Guatemala, Guillermo?"

"Blanca vill see;" he lifts the hand with the rosary falling about it
to his lips and kisses the crucifix.

"Good-night, Guillermo."

"Good-night, Blanca."

By half-past seven the next morning all who purpose going ashore are
standing on the lower deck of the _San Miguel_, wondering how they are
to get from the steamer to the clumsy "lighter" or freight boat that
the great breakers are tossing about below, and which is reported to
be