na,
and could only feebly damn his junior for coming down to ask if there
were not something he could do for him.

"Yes, take this pistol and shoot me," moaned the sufferer. "No, of
course I don't want brandy and water, nor you nor anybody. It's simply
scandalous for you to be up and well. Go 'way!" And though Loring sorely
needed counsel, he felt that Turnbull was in no mood for talk, and so
climbed back on deck again. He had made up his mind to tell the purser
the whole story and to ask him to examine the contents of the package.
All the livelong night the Idaho plowed and careened through the rolling
seas, gaining scant relief off Santa Catalina and San Jose, but when in
the undimmed splendor of the morning sun she swept proudly into the
placid, land-locked harbor of old La Paz, Loring was the only man among
her passengers to appear on deck. Even after she dropped anchor and one
or two bedraggled victims were hoisted from below and dropped over the
side to be rowed ashore, none of the women of the gay Guaymas party was
able to climb the stairs. The wind was gone by sundown, and the Idaho
once more steering coastwise for Cape San Lucas. The night wore on and
Loring was still alone when, just as the tinkle of the ship's bell told
that nine o'clock had come, with a soft, warm air drifting off the land,
a fragile little form issued slowly from the companionway, and the
stewardess smiled invitingly on the blue-eyed officer, as though
begging him to aid her feeble charge to a seat.

"I have brought the senorita up for half an hour. I made her come," said
she, as she dumped the pile of shawls into a spreading chair and began
preparing a nest, while Pancha, turning away at sight of Loring, sank to
the end of the bench, the very seat she occupied as they put to sea from
Guaymas. But now it was Loring who tendered his arm, and, calmly
ignoring her evident if unspoken protest, aided in lifting her from the
bench and seating her in the depths of the easy reclining chair. The
stewardess, with practiced hand, carefully tucked the rugs about her,
and bidding the little damsel make the most of the soft, salt air, while
she herself ran below to prepare her chocolate, would have gone at once
but for Pancha's trembling, yet restraining hand. The child seemed to
cling to her in desperation. Rapidly and in low tone she poured forth a
torrent of pleading, and the kind-hearted woman looked about her in
perplexity and distress.

"What ca