"Beautifully ... but not the least hint of the nautical. White serge suit, straw-coloured pongee shirt with a dark, smoky-orange colour tie, yellow buckskin shoes. His hair is long and beautifully _ondulé_; such a chevelure is wasted on most men, but not on the Pilot-fish. I wonder if he sleeps with it in papers." "No," said Wood. "It has always been like that. Freshman year the Sophs tried to cut it for him. The infirmary did a big business for a week. His bull-pup and parrot got in the game and bit one man and gouged the ear of another. The next night the Sophs went back in force to do the job or die. Harold waited until they got inside, then locked the door, threw the key under the bed, and pulled aside the curtains of an alcove. Here was a forbidding-looking keg with "POWDER" stencilled on the side in big red letters, and a fuse in the top. Before anybody could stop him, Harold let out a fearful yell and lighted the fuse. It began to sputter, and the Sophs lost interest in Harold's hair. You see, he was known to be such a wild freak that there was no telling what he might not do, so out they went, taking the door with them and piling up in a heap in the corridor, which was narrow. The fuse reached the bung-hole, when there came a sort of mild explosion. One man fainted. When the smoke cleared away, there was Harold drawing beer out of the other end of the keg. They let him keep his hair." Cécile did not join in the laughter of the others. "Then he is a sort of clown?" she asked, a little sharply. Wood shook his head. "Not a bit. It seems to me that the others were the ones to perform." Cécile made no answer. To herself she was registering a little vow that she would put the leonine Mr. Applebo through his tricks, and that before she was many days older. There was to be a little dinner party aboard the _Shark_ that night, and Captain Bell, the most recent of whose fads was the culinary arts, had spent his morning in the galley, preparing certain dishes with which to "surprise" his guests. This innocent pastime of their father's had been encouraged by the girls; as Hermione said, "it kept him out of mischief, while the heat of the galley, acting as a Turkish bath, was good for his asthma." In the present instance, however, this beneficial occupation was destined to directly affect the future affairs of several people, notably those of Mr. Harold Applebo. It was during the soup course Captain Bell ventured to expand a little to his guests on the higher attributes of the culinary art:--