"Be ready on the stroke of seven in the morning, and I'll show you one of the beautiful things of Alaska."
"But—at Ketchikan, captain!"
"Yes, at Ketchikan."
I thought of all the vaunted attractions of Ketchikan which had ever been brought to my observation; and I felt that at seven o'clock in the morning, in a pouring rain, I could live without every one of them. Then—the charm of a warm berth in a gray hour, the cup of hot coffee, the last dream to the drowsy throb of the steamer—
"It will be raining, captain," one said, feebly.
The look of disgust that went across his expressive face!
"What if it is! You won't know it's raining as soon as you get your eyes filled with what I want to show you. But if you're one of that kind—"
He made a gesture of dismissal with his hands, palms outward, and turned away.
"Captain, I shall be ready at seven. I'm not one of that kind," we all cried together.
"All right; but I won't wait five minutes. There'll be two hundred passengers waiting to go."