. . . . . .
. . . . . .
Pandoo is still steward, but there is a good cook, and both young ladies have maids.
That first day’s dinner was a happy one, and when seated on chairs in the moonlight, on the upper deck, Antonio told more of the wonderful adventures of the Zingara than Parson Grahame yet had heard.
“But now,” said Davie Drake, “don’t forget your promise, sir, to tell us how you managed to free your brother from the power of those bloody-handed thugs and priests.”
. . . . . .
Antonio sat still for a minute or two, as if deep in thought. Then he played a few sad notes on the guitar. This, he used to say, always calmed his mind and toned his nervous system.
“Brother,” he said at last, “let you and I tell the story together.”
José’s hand and Antonio’s met in a brotherly clasp.
“Will you begin?”