"Come with me as my guest, friend Arundel, and bring my niece as well. There, I will not be denied."
"In that case I will not refuse," said Eean, "and I shall write to my wife to-night."
"Oh, your wife shall know all about it in an hour! I shall cable."
* * * * * *
Very much surprised indeed was honest, kindly Eppie to receive that cablegram all the way from San Francisco—over three thousand miles of land, across three thousand miles and more of ocean. And the reply was paid for; so that Eean and Toddie had that very evening the pleasure of reading Eppie's message back, and her blessing.
And thus then it happened that, when the San Salvador left the Pacific slope, and once more spread her canvas wings out before the ocean breeze, on her ivory-white quarter-deck sat old Eean, the bard, and Toddie, the latter dressed in the most bewitchingly yachty costume it is possible to imagine, and looking every inch a sailor.
And not very far off, leaning over the bulwarks, was Bunko himself, not looking very like a sailor, it must be confessed, but a well-dressed and interesting figure nevertheless.
Captain Cawdor was in uniform now, and he had not only the same mate, but pretty much the same men, as he had sailed into port with more than a year and a half ago.
One other person deserves a word of introduction. Yonder he is, talking now to Bunko, a Scottish missionary, one of those fearless young men who take life in the left hand, the Bible in the other, and carry the gospel of peace and goodwill to the most savage tribes on earth.
* * * * * *