"Well, bein' as we're all good mates here," observed the bosun, "I'll tell you the yarn. I never ain't married--I ain't that lucky, though I walks out with scores o' gals in my time; but I on'y ever has one real sweetheart, an' she was a clipper. She was----" He broke off, and then resumed slowly, "That's 'er photo--she was second 'ousemaid to Lord Arrendale" (Jack gave a sharp start of surprise). "That's away back ten years or more," continued the bosun reflectively; "then I goes off on a v'yage out East, thinkin' as how with a big payday a-comin' I'd get spliced when I gets home again. But my luck's dead out. I gets wrecked among the Islands, an' precious near ate up, an' it's over four years afore I drops my mudhook in the old cottage. Then I found my gal had gone an' left her place an' disappeared." The strong man's eyes grew misty, and the deep voice shook. "Well, I ups anchor an' beats up and down the whole country, but I never meets up with my gal no more; so I goes to sea again, and I ain't been ashore more'n two months all put together in the last ten years. "And do you think I ever forgets that gal o' mine? No, sir; she's as dear to me, an' more, than she was in them days when I was a-courtin'. I often envies folks that I sees married, all so comfort'ble in their little bit o' home with the kids an' all. The likes o' them never don't seem to realise their luck. It's us fellers who 'as no wife, nor 'ome, nor kids--who's in Shanghai one minit an' off the Horn the next--it's us who spots their luck." The bosun ceased and looked keenly at Jack. "Ben Cray," said the latter earnestly but simply, reaching out his hand and seizing the bosun's burly fist, "I'm sorry!" Broncho stared; he had only heard the big Britisher addressed as bosun, and did not know his real name, and he also thought that Jack was in like ignorance up to that evening. There was something going on behind the scenes which he could not even guess at. He was a keen observer, and had noticed the blush on the cheek of his friend. "He's a hard-cut citizen, is Jack," thought the cowboy. "It takes a lot to jump him offen his gyard." "Ben," continued Jack, "you're a real white man. I remember her now, poor little thing, and you too." "I spotted you fust day you comes aboard, sir!" "I didn't know, bosun; I've never been home since I went to sea, and that was just before you went on that unlucky voyage." "I see'd the ole lord last time I was back," began the bosun with some hesitation; and then stopped, as if he would have liked to say something more, but dared not. "Hm!" muttered Jack indifferently, with mask-like face; but the keen-eyed cowpuncher noticed a singular gleam in the rover's clear blue orbs. For a few moments there was silence, and then Broncho broke in: "Talkin' of marriage, you shorely recalls my Juanita, don't you, Jack?" "Certainly I do." "Well," went on the cowboy, "I never gets my brand on to her, though I near has the hobbles on more'n once."