The second day out was a pleasant surprise for all on board who had made
up their minds to a disagreeable winter passage. The air was clear, the
sky blue as if it were spring-time, instead of midwinter. They were in
the Gulf Stream. The sun shone brightly and the temperature was mild.
Nevertheless, it was an uncomfortable day for those who were poor
sailors. Although there did not seem, to the casual observer, to be much
of a sea running, the ship rolled atrociously. Those who had made heroic
resolutions on the subject were sitting in silent misery in their
deck-chairs, which had been lashed to firm stanchions. Few were walking
the clean bright deck, because walking that morning was a gymnastic feat.
Three or four who evidently wished to show they had crossed before, and
knew all about it, managed to make their way along the deck. Those
recumbent in the steamer-chairs watched with lazy interest the
pedestrians who now and then stood still, leaning apparently far out of
the perpendicular, as the deck inclined downward. Sometimes the
pedestrian's feet slipped, and he shot swiftly down the incline. Such an
incident was invariably welcomed by those who sat. Even the invalids
smiled wanly.

Kenyon reclined in his deck-chair with his eyes fixed on the blue sky.
His mind was at rest about the syndicate report now that it had been
mailed to London. His thoughts wandered to his own affairs, and he
wondered whether he would make money out of the option he had acquired at
Ottawa. He was not an optimistic man, and he doubted.

After their work for the London Syndicate was finished, the young men had
done a little business on their own account. They visited together a
mica-mine that was barely paying expenses, and which the proprietors were
anxious to sell. The mine was owned by the Austrian Mining Company,
whose agent, Von Brent, was interviewed by Kenyon in Ottawa. The young