The Captain of the Kansas | Page 4

volume he recommends in 'Books which have
influenced men,' I suppose? What a charming idea! I shall never
forgive myself for not having thought of it long ago."
Courtenay laughed and blushed like any schoolgirl. Elsie's appreciation
had a downright, honest ring in it that went far beyond the platitudes.

She accorded him the ready comradeship of a kin soul.
"Many people have been surprised by my collection; you are the first to
discover its inspiration," he said.
"That is not strange. There are so few who read. Reading means
discerning, interpreting. I am a worshiper of R. L. S., but I have been
shocked to find that for a hundred who can talk glibly of his novels
there is hardly one who has communed with him in his essays."
"We have actually hit upon a topic that should prove inexhaustible.
Believe me, Miss Maxwell, that is my pet subject. More than once,
needing a listener, I have even lectured my long-suffering terrier, Joey,
on the point."
Isobel laughed softly. The two standing in front of the bookcase started
apart, with a sudden consciousness that they were speaking
unguardedly, for Isobel's mirth had mockery in it--"there was a
laughing devil in her sneer."
"By the way, where is Joey?" she asked.
The dog answered her question by appearing, with a stretch and a yawn,
from beneath a bunk. He had heard his name in Courtenay's voice. That
sufficed for Joey at any time.
"What a strange animal!" went on Isobel. "I should have thought that
he would bark, or peep out at us, at the least, when we came in."
"Joey had a disturbed night," said Courtenay. "We passed the evening
in the Hotel Colon, and he regards South American hotels as the natural
dwelling-place of cats, and other bad characters. Here, he is at home,
and he knew that I was present."
"Otherwise, he would have classified us as suspicious?"
"He is far too discriminating. What do you say, pup?"
Joey looked up at his master. Apparently, he found the conversation

trivial; he yawned again, capaciously.
"You darling! You must have slept with one eye open," said Elsie,
stooping to pat him.
"Oh, take care!" cried Isobel. "He may bite you."
"Not he! When you see that wistful look in a dog's eyes, have no fear.
He wants to speak then. You won't bite me, will you, dear?" And Elsie
sank on one knee, to stroke Joey's white coat; whereupon Joey tried to
lick her face.
"Between the Stevenson Library and the captain's dog you are installed
as a prime favorite on board the Kansas," commented Isobel. The other
girl rose hurriedly. She had caught the touch of malice in the smooth
voice.
"Captain Courtenay is too polite to remind us that we are intruders,"
she said lightly. "We forget that he is busy. Joey, candidly canine, did
not try to hide his feelings."
Isobel swung her chair round to face the door.
"This is quite the best place in the ship," she said. "I am very
comfortable, thank you. Please don't send us away, captain."
Before Courtenay could answer, the officer of the watch looked in.
"Cape Caraumilla bearing sou'west of the Buei Rock, sir," he
announced, and vanished again.
"Don't hurry," said Courtenay, taking up his cap. "I must leave you for
a few minutes."
He was gone, with Joey at his heels, and there was a brief silence.
"Really, Isobel, we should go back on deck," urged Elsie, uneasily.
Already she half regretted the impulse which led her to intervene in her
friend's special hobby.

"I like that. I didn't credit you with such guile, Elsie Maxwell. You
snap up my nice captain beneath my very nose, and coolly propose that
I should vacate the battlefield. Oh dear, no! I can't talk literature, but I
can flirt, and I have not finished with Arthur yet by a long chalk."
"Isobel, if you knew how you hurt me--"
Miss Baring crossed her pretty feet, folded her arms, and gave her
companion a smiling glance.
"So artful, too. 'Love me, love my dog,' eh? You actually took my
breath away."
"It may amaze you to learn that I meant to achieve that much, at any
rate," was Elsie's quiet retort as she turned to select a volume from the
queer miscellany in the bookcase.
"Oh, don't be cruel. Leave me my Frenchman! Say you won't wheedle
Edouard by quoting the classics of his native tongue! Poor me! Here
have I been warming a serpent in my bosom."
With a moue of make-believe anguish Isobel leaned back in her chair.
She was insolently conscious of her superior attractions. Was she not
the richest heiress in Valparaiso? Had not her father chartered this ship?
And was not Elsie even now flying from an