Ruth was a good sailor and felt no bad effect from the long ocean swells as the ship ploughed over them. Drew, too, who had no sea-going experience at all and had inwardly dreaded possible sea-sickness, was delighted to find that he was to be exempt. Parmalee, however, although he had traveled extensively, had never been immune from paying tribute to Neptune. He ate but little at the noon-day meal, and when the rest gathered around the table at night he did not appear at all. Drew felt that he should be sympathetic, and, to do him justice, he tried to be. He visited Parmalee in his cabin, condoled with him, and offered to be of any possible service. But Parmalee wanted nothing except to be let alone, and, with the consciousness of duty done, Drew left him to his misery and joined the rest at the table. "I'm awfully sorry for poor Mr. Parmalee," remarked Ruth, as she poured Drew's tea. "Poor fellow," chimed in the young man perfunctorily. "You don't say that as though you meant it at all," objected Ruth reprovingly. "What do you expect me to do?" laughed Drew. "Weep bitter tears? I'll do it if you want me to. In fact, I'll do anything you want me to do--jump through a hoop, roll over, play dead, anything at all." "I didn't know you had so many accomplishments," remarked Ruth, with a touch of sarcasm. "Oh, I'm a perfect wonder," replied the young man. "There isn't anything I can't do or wouldn't do--for you," he added, dropping his voice so only she could hear it. Ruth, however, pretended not to hear, and addressed her next remark to Grimshaw. "How do you like Wah Lee's cooking?" she asked. "Fine," replied Tyke. "There's no better cooks anywhere than the Chinks. Want to look out that he don't slip one over on you, though, if the victuals run short. Might serve up cat or rat or something of the kind an' call it pork or veal. An' he'd probably git away with it, too." Ruth gave a little shudder. "Cat might not be so bad at that," remarked her father. "Down in Chili, for instance, they haven't any rabbits and they serve up cats instead. 'Gato piquante' they call it, which means savory cat. I've never tasted it, but I know those who have, and they say that it makes the finest kind of stew." "Why not?" commented Drew, with a grin. "Catfish is good. So is catsup. Why not cat stew?" "I think you men are just horrid!" exclaimed Ruth. "Taking away poor Wah Lee's character like this behind his back." "Well, I guess we won't have to worry about his falling from grace on this cruise," laughed her father. "We're too well stocked up for him to be driven to try experiments." When they went up on deck, the moon had risen. Its golden light tipped the waves with a sheen of glory and turned the spray into so much glittering diamond dust. Under its magic witchery, the ropes and rigging looked like lace work woven by fairy fingers.