Presently the big bell rang vigorously, and the whistle hoarsely blew, as signal for all visitors to go ashore. Mrs. Adams gave Charley and her husband one final kiss, and Charley added to his return kiss a round hug. She was such a good woman; he wished that she was going, too. He rather wished that he could stay at home with her; he—he—and he choked. For a moment he almost hated his miner's costume. However——
"Write often, now," she bade, her eyes dewy, as with her they hastened out on deck.
"Yes, we will. And you write often and tell us the news. Send us the papers."
"I will, dear. Now, do be careful."
"Yes. Take care of yourself, too. If you need us, we'll come straight home, won't we, Charley?"
Charley could only nod.
"Hurry, dear, or you'll be left," warned Mr. Adams, anxiously—for already the gangplank ropes had been tautened by the donkey-engine and the plank was trembling to rise. Charley rather wished that she would be left; then she'd have to come with them! Wouldn't that be great!
But she ran down the plank. Then, near the end, she stopped, and called back.
"What's that, dear?" inquired Mr. Adams, and he and Charley listened keenly.
"Have you got the quinine?"