Then all three returned slowly along the cliff-top.
There was much talk and wonderment in the wee village of Methlin, when it got bruited abroad that Eean and his daughter, as Toddie was always called, were going off with the strange sailor gentleman to America.
And almost the first to hear of it was Bunko, the herd.
Now of late years, through the earnest and indefatigable teaching of Eean, a very great change had come over this strange lad. Simple he might still have been called, but half-witted no longer. He went straight away now and sought audience of Eean.
"I hear," he said, "you're going off to the lands o' America. Well, sir, I've saved ten golden pounds, and I'm goin' too to tak' care o' Toddie. No, no, you canna shake me off."
Eean smiled, and Bunko won.
So it came to pass that when Captain Cawdor, with Eean and Toddie, took passage at Liverpool for Baltimore, Bunko was booked also.
"Heigho," said Bunko, as soon as they were embarked, "I can hardly believe I'm no' dreaming. And we really are going down to the sea in ships, to behold the wonders o' the Lord in the mighty deep."
* * * * * *
Just one month after the sailing of the steamer that bore old Eean and his party to the new world, and early on a beautiful forenoon, Señor Sarpinto was lounging in the gardens of a splendid hotel in San Francisco. At such a time of day as this very few people are to be found lounging anywhere, in this great busy, bustling city, for those who are not engrossed in the work of their lives are intent on pleasure.