vitalizing rain that unedged even the fieriest of Signor Angelinas stimulants.
"Pip," Blake very quietly announced, "you 're going to sail for Guayaquil to-morrow!"
"Am I?" queried the unmoved Pip.
"You 're going to start for Guayaquil to-morrow," repeated Blake, "and you 're going to take me along with you!"
"My friend," retorted Pip, emitting a curling geyser of smoke as long and thin as a pool-que, "you 're sure laborin' under the misapprehension this steamer o' mine is a Pacific mailer! But she ain't, Blake!"
"I admit that," quietly acknowledged the other man. "I saw her yesterday!"
"And she don't carry no passengers—she ain't allowed to," announced her master.
"But she 's going to carry me," asserted Blake, lighting a fresh cigar.
"What as?" demanded Tankred. And he fixed Blake with a belligerent eye as he put the question.
"As an old friend of yours!"
