With this Phil stepped to the bell, and rang it so violently that half a dozen bell-boys came tumbling into the room at once. "Go to No. 20," said the youth to one of these, "and ask the gentleman who is there to kindly step down here for a minute."
"And you, boy!" thundered the commander to another, his face flushed with anger, "find the gentleman who came here with me, and inform him that I desire his presence immediately."
The lieutenant was the first to arrive.
"Is this your Philip Ryder?" demanded the commander, at the same time pointing to the youth who stood opposite.
"No, sir, he is not," replied the lieutenant, promptly.
"Who is he, then?" asked the other, staggered by this answer.
"Begging the gentleman's pardon, this is Mr. Philip Ryder, as I can swear," interrupted a fourth individual, who had just entered.
"Hello, Carncross! You here? And you know this young man?"
"Certainly I do, sir. I met his father, Mr. John Ryder—the famous mining expert, you know—at my father's house in San Francisco last winter, and came to call on him here as soon as I heard of his arrival in Tacoma. He and his son arrived on to-day's steamer from Alaska, where Phil Ryder has just completed a most notable exploration on snow-shoes and sledges of the Yukon Valley. By-the-way, he is also a friend of your old friend Captain Matthews."
"What! Not Israel Matthews, of the Phoca? You don't say so! Mr. Ryder, allow me to shake hands with you, and offer my humble apologies for this absurd mistake."