"The boat stops six hours," Considine remarked. "Long enough to see the town, and they tell me wine is cheap. I'll go ashore with you, Musgrave. Where's my money, Bones?"
"I'll keep t' brass until you come back," Bones rejoined.
Considine was fat and his hair was going white, but he turned with unexpected swiftness and seizing the lad, took his cap.
"No time to get my boots, but your deck-shoes won't go on! Hand out my pocket-book."
Bones gave up the book and went to the gangway with Kit.
"I expect that's your boat. We were pretty good pals on this voyage and I hope we'll meet again. What do you say, Blades?"
"I'd like it," agreed the other and then his friendly grin vanished and his freckled face got grave. "All the same, Africa's a queer country and you can't have adventures without some risk. Well, good luck, Musgrave! I'd better say good-bye!"
Kit gave him his hand and afterwards learned that Blades' dream of romantic adventures was not realized. His job was to count bottles of trade gin, and he and Bones died of fever before they earned their first year's pay.
In the meantime, Considine jumped into the boat. He wore neat white clothes, thin, red slippers, and Bones' cap, which was much too small.
"I ought to have stopped on board," he said with a twinkle. "All the same, when I get to Africa I'll have long enough to play up to my job. At Las Palmas I'm not important. When you want a frolic, go where you're not known."