old to make a living. He's selling pies on the street--"

"He borrowed a dollar from me just now," said O'Neil, who was
staring out of a window. Suddenly he turned and addressed his
host. "Trevor, it's going to storm." His voice was harsh, his
eyes were eager; his tone brought the engineer to his side.
Together they looked out across the bay.

The southern sky was leaden, the evening had been shortened by a
rack of clouds which came hurrying in from the sea.

"Let it storm," said Trevor, after a moment. "I'm ready."

"Have you ever seen it blow here?"

"The old-timers tell me I haven't, but--I've seen some terrible
storms. Of course the place is unusual--"

"In what way?" Eliza inquired.

"The whole country back of here is ice-capped. This coast for a
hundred miles to the east is glacial. The cold air inland and the
warm air from the Japanese Current are always at war."

"There is a peculiar difference in air-pressures, too," O'Neil
explained. "Over the warm interior it is high, and over the coast
range it is low; so every valley becomes a pathway for the wind.
But that isn't where the hurricanes come from. They're born out
yonder." He pointed out beyond the islands from which the
breakwater flung its slender arm. "This may be only a little