“I have brought names into the discussion largely to show what a doubtful field is opened once we begin to suspect without real cause. The only witness of any value we have on board is Frascuelo, and his evidence merely goes to prove a secret design to interfere with, or control, the trimming of the bunker. That particular hatch must be sealed, and the specimens we have secured put away under lock and key. I feel assured that the remainder of our coal is above suspicion. We can carry the inquiry no further while we remain here. Now, Mr. Walker, you have something of a more cheering nature to communicate, I think.” The engineer grinned genially. “I don’t wish to bind myself to a day or so, Miss Maxwell and gentlemen,” he said, “but I’ve had a good look at the damage, an’ I feel pwitty shu-aw I’ll get up steam in one boil-aw within ten days or a fawt-night. It’ll be a makeshift job at the best, because I have so few spa-aw fittin’s, an’ no chance of makin’ a castin’, but I’ll bet a ye’aw’s scwew the _Kansas_ gets a move on her undaw her own steam soon aftaw New Ye-aw’s Day.” New Year’s Day! What a lump in the throat the words brought. In three days it would be Christmas, in seven more the New Year! Though, from the beginning of the voyage, they were prepared to pass both festivals at sea, there was all the difference in the world between a steady progress towards home and friends and the present plight of the _Kansas_. Death, too, had thrown its shadow over them. Some there were to whom the passing of the years would mean no more in this world. Others, the great majority of the ship’s company, were probably hidden by the same eternal silence; the last sight they had of them was a dim vision of boats rushing into a chaos of angry seas and sheeted spray. But Courtenay would have none of these mournful memories. He had solved the mystery of the ship’s breakdown, and an expert mechanical engineer had just pledged his reputation to restore wings to the _Kansas_—somewhat clipped wings, it is true, but sufficient, given fair weather and reasonable good fortune, to bring her to a civilized settlement in the Straits. Why, then, should they yield to gloom? “Isn’t that glorious news?” he cried. “Now, Christobal, that motor trip in June through the Pyrenees looks feasible once more. And you, Miss Maxwell, though you have never quailed for an instant, can hope to be in England in the spring. As for you, Tollemache, surely you will say that our prospects are ‘fair,’ at the least.” “I would say more than that if it were not for these poisonous Indians,” replied Tollemache. “Here they come now, a whole canoe load of ’em. I have never seen such rotters.” And, indeed, Francisco Suarez, detailed to keep watch and ward over the ship until noon, ran up the companion and cried excitedly: