he yarn. It must be jolly interesting."

"I'll admit that it has been a tough struggle; but I knew that I had
the oil. Been flat broke for months. Had to borrow my boy's savings
for food and shelter. Well, this is the way it runs." Warrington told
it simply, as if it were a great joke.

"Rippin'! By Jove, you Americans are hard customers to put over. I
suppose you'll be setting out for the States at once?" with a curious
glance.

"I haven't made any plans yet," eying the cheroot thoughtfully.

"I see." The purser nodded. It was not difficult to understand.
"Well, good luck to you wherever you go."

"Much obliged."

Alone in his stateroom Warrington took out Rajah and tossed him on the
counterpane of the bed.

"Now, then, old sport!" tapping the parrot on the back with the perch
which he used as a baton. Blinking and muttering, the bird performed
his tricks, and was duly rewarded and returned to his home of iron.
"She'll be wanting to take you home with her, but you're not for sale."

He then opened his window and leaned against the sill, looking up at
the stars. But, unlike the girl, he did not ask any questions.

"Free!" he said softly.

III

THE WEAK LINK

The day began white and chill, for February nights and mornings are not
particularly comfortable on the Irrawaddy. The boat sped down the
river, smoothly and noiselessly. For all that the sun shone, the
shore-lines were still black. The dust had not yet risen. Elsa passed
through the dining-saloon to the stern-deck and paused at the door.
The scene was always a source of interest to her. There were a hundred
or more natives squatting in groups on the deck. They were wrapped in
ragged shawls, cotton rugs of many colors, and woolen blankets, and
their turbans were as bright and colorful as a Holland tulip-bed. Some
of them were smoking long pipes and using their fists as mouthpieces;
others were scrubbing their teeth with short sticks of fibrous wood;
and still others were eating rice and curry out of little copper pots.
There were very few Burmese among them. They were Hindus, from Central
and Southern India, with a scattering of Cingalese. Whenever a Hindu
gets together a few rupees, he travels. He neither cares exactly where
the journey ends, nor that he may never be able to return; so long as
there is a temple at his destination, that suffices him. The past is
the past, to-morrow is to-morrow, but to-day is to-day: he liv