On the way back they encountered the Captain accompanied by the Chief Engineer. The two were heading for the saloon, the bugle having sounded for luncheon. As they passed by with their easy, swinging gait, the passengers watched them closely. If there was danger in the air these two officers, of all men, would know it. The Captain greeted the Texan with a significant look, waited until the Actor had been presented, looked the Texan's friend over from head to foot, and then with a nod to several of the others halted opposite a steamer chair in which sat the widow and her two children--one a baby and the other a boy of four--a plump, hugable little fellow, every inch of whose surface invited a caress. “Please stay a minute and let me talk to you, Captain,” the widow pleaded. “I've been so worried. None of these stories are true, are they? There can't be any danger or you would have told me--wouldn't you?” The Captain laughed heartily, so heartily that even the Chief Engineer looked at him in astonishment. “What stories do you hear, my dear lady?” “That the steamer isn't loaded properly?” Again the Captain laughed, this time under the curls of the chubby boy whom he had caught in his arms and was kissing eagerly. “Not loaded right?” he puffed at last when he got his breath. “Well, well, what a pity! That yarn, I guess, comes from some of the navigators in the smoking-room. They generally run the ship. Here, you little rascal, turn out your toes and dance a jig for me. No--no--not that way--this way-r-out with them! Here, let me show you. One--two--off we go. Now the pigeon wing and the double twist and the rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat--that's the way, my lad!” He had the boy's hands now, the child shouting with laughter, the overjoyed mother clapping her hands as the big burly Captain with his face twice as red from the exercise, danced back and forth across the deck, the passengers forming a ring about them. “There!” sputtered the Captain, all out of breath from the exercise, as he dropped the child back into the widow's arms. “Now all of you come down to luncheon. The weather is getting better every minute. The glass is rising and we are going to have a fine night.” Carhart, who had watched the whole performance with an ill-concealed sneer on his face, muttered to the man next him: “What did I tell you? He's a pretty kind of a Captain, ain't he? He's mashed on the widow just as I told you. Smoking-room yarn, is it? I bet I could pick out half a dozen men right in them chairs who could run the ship as well as he does. Maybe we'll have to take charge, after all--don't you think so, Mr. Bonner?” The Texan smiled grimly: “I'll let you do the picking, Mr. Carhart--” and with his hand on the Actor's arm, the two went below.