"Oh, begad, think how the girls would tear their hair, and mine too, if I didn't look after them," replied Pat; "it's purely ornamental ye are, but 'tis better to be good than beautiful, and a mighty poor consolation anyhow."
Pat Ryan was certainly not beautiful, being short and dark, but his lack of good looks was more than made up by the possession of a clever tongue, which was generally going from morning till night, and as he could sing, play, write verses, and flatter a woman to perfection he was a great favourite on board.
"Well, I'm off to the halls of dazzlin' light," he observed when they had finished their drinks and were once more on deck; "come along, ye lazy divil, and I'll get you a partner."
"I'm too hot," objected Ronald, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Oh, jist hear him," said Pat in disgust. "Why, I've seen ye all day in the saddle under a burnin' sun, and divil a growl from ye, and yet when I offer ye a pretty girl to dance with, ye refuse; and as for the girl, begad, her beauty would tempt St. Anthony himself and small blame to him."
"Who is she?" asked the Australian, with some show of interest.
"Miss Lester, no less."
"I thought you were sweet there yourself Pat."
"I'm sweet on all the girls me boy--there's safety in numbers, and I believe in quantity as well as quality."
"You're getting too deep for me," said Ronald, pulling a very black pipe from his pocket, "so I'll go and have a smoke."