"I'm sorry I haven't anything on board in shape of women's clothes, but

I'll send for your stuff if you wish."

"That is the single consideration you have shown me. My belongings are at

the American consulate, and I should be glad to have them."

"You will find paper and ink in the escritoire. Write me an order and I

promise to attend to the matter personally."

"And search through everything at your leisure!"

Cleigh blushed, and he heard his son chuckle again. He had certainly

caught a tartar--possibly two. With a twisted smile he recalled the old

yarn of the hunter who caught the bear by the tail. Willing to let go, and

daring not!

"Still I agree," continued the girl. "I want my own familiar things--if I

must take this forced voyage. But mark me, Mr. Cleigh, you will pay some

day! I'm not the clinging kind, and I shall fight you tooth and nail from

the first hour of my freedom. I'm not without friends."

"Never in this world!" came resonantly from Cabin Two.

Cleigh longed to get away. There was a rumbling and a threatening inside

of him that needed space--Gargantuan laughter. Not the clinging kind, this

girl! And the boy, walking straight at Dodge's villainous revolver! Why,

he would need the whole crew behind him when he liberated these two! But

he knew that the laughter striving for articulation was not the kind heard

in Elysian fields!




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