"There's Millie Higbee and old Silas, now."
"And, as I live," exclaimed Psyche, "there's the Baron de Palliac between them!"
"Sure enough," said her brother. "We must call ma up to see him dressed in those sweet, pretty yachting flannels. Oh, there you are!" as Mrs. Bines joined them. "Just take this glass and treat yourself to a look at your old friend, the baron. You'll notice he has one on—see—they're waving to us."
"Doesn't the baron look just too distinguished beside Mr. Higbee?" said Psyche, watching them.
"And doesn't Higbee look just too Chicago beside the baron?" replied her brother.
The Higbee craft cut her way gracefully up to an anchorage near the Viluca, and launches from both yachts now prepared to land their people. At the landing Percival telephoned for a carriage. While they were waiting the Higbee party came ashore.
"Hello!" said Higbee; "if I'd known that was you we was chasing I'd have put on steam and left you out of sight."
"It's much better you didn't recognise us; these boiler explosions are so messy."
"Know the baron here?"
"Of course we know the baron. Ah, baron!"