"I'll do it now--now!" cried St. George. "If Mr. Chillingworth will
put me on this story in your place and will give you a week off on
_The Aloha_, you may have her and welcome."

Little Cawthorne pounded on the table.

"Where do I come in?" he wailed. "But no, all I get is another wad
o' woe."

"What do you say, Mr. Chillingworth?" St. George asked eagerly.

"I don't know," said Chillingworth, meditatively turning his glass.
"St. George is rested and fresh, and he feels the story. And
Amory--here, touch glasses with me."

Amory obeyed. His chief's hand was steady, but the two glasses
jingled together until, with a smile, Amory dropped his arm.

"I _am_ about all in, I fancy," he admitted apologetically.

"A week's rest on the water," said Chillingworth, "would set you on
your feet for the convention. All right, St. George," he nodded.

St. George leaped to his feet.

"Hooray!" he shouted like a boy. "Jove, won't it be good to get
back?"

He smiled as he set down his glass, remembering the day at his desk
when he had seen the white-and-brass craft slip to the river's