“I—I hoped it would be.”
“Why”
“Our trading schooner, the Swallow, sank. We—we can’t find it. I thought—”
“Thought these people might find it for you?”
“Yes! Yes—that’s it! Do you suppose—”
“I can’t tell about that. You see,” Johnny hesitated, “I’m only a watch, on this boat. I—well you might say I’m just a tropical tramp!”
“That,” said the girl, putting out her hand, “makes us kin! Grandfather and I are beach-combers!
“You see,” she went on, after giving Johnny’s hand a quick grip, “I sort of ran away from home. No, not quite that. I was half through college. It cost an awful lot. My folks couldn’t afford it, but they wanted me to finish anyway. I wouldn’t let them spend the money, so I asked grandfather to send me a steamship ticket. He did—and here I am! It’s grand! Really gorgeous! These nights.” She spread her arms wide. “The jungle! The water rushing along the shore, the birds, the flowers, romance, adventure, everything! It’s just grand!” Her face fairly shone.
“But our boat,” her voice dropped, “sprang a leak in a storm. The natives were sailing her. They lost the location and we can’t find it. Perhaps—”
“You’d have to see Dave,” said Johnny.