The Baron laughs at her last shot as she moves away with my media in her hand and some unusually rich guerdon from him. "What is she chattering about?" asks Mrs. Steele. "She zay she know dthe Senorita vidth dthe pretty eyes would like dthe shaills, and dthat vas vhy she follow her in dthe church, but Senorita ees easy frighten. Senor must take gude care off her and nefer leaf her." Mrs. Steele smiles indulgently and draws out her watch. "It's time we were going," she says. "The _San Miguel's_ lights will be all out, I'm afraid." The Baron's "cargodor" meets us at the wharf laden with our bizarre purchases, and, after bestowing us and them in the boat, he dips his oars and we glide out into the bay. The far-off steamer is wrapped in darkness, the lamps are all extinguished in the staterooms, for it is long past eleven, but the waves flash every attack of the oar, and the Southern Cross shines aslant the sky. CHAPTER IV [Illustration: Chapter Four] I DRINK COCOANUT MILK AND GO FISHING FOR PEARLS I fancy I have just fallen asleep when I am roused by hearing someone speaking at the port hole. I open my eyes to find it is the peep o' day, and out of the dull, grey dawn a Mexican's face looks in at my window. "What do you want?" I demand, and in the same breath, "Go away! Mrs. Steele! Mrs. Steele!" To my amazement Mrs. Steele appears in the doorway all dressed. "That's only the Baron's boatman, my dear, come to call you. I've had a raging headache, and the place was so hot I dressed and went up on deck, and there was the Baron de Bach pacing up and down--_he_ couldn't sleep, either. He suggests we take a boat and go out to catch the early breeze and see the sun rise from the other side of the bay. Will you come?" "Of course I will," I say sleepily, and not in the best of tempers. "There was no need to send that evil-looking brigand to wake me! My nerves are in a continual tremor in this blessed place. Do you know, Mrs. Steele," I say, fishing under the berth for a renegade stocking, "I've a sort of presentiment I shan't leave the shores of the Pacific without some kind of misfortune or hair-breadth escape." "Nonsense!" says my practical friend, "you've eaten something that has disagreed with you. Hurry as fast as you can; the Captain says we weigh anchor at eight o'clock." I finish a hasty toilet and follow Mrs. Steele on deck. The Baron is waiting--he looks pale and rather graver than usual. "Good-morning, Senorita," he says, and we shake hands. "Haf you sleep?" "Oh, yes," I say, accepting the coffee he has ordered. "I always sleep." The first faint flush of the coming splendour spreads above the hills as we push off from the _San Miguel_. Deeper and deeper grow the purple and the saffron till long shafts of golden light shoot up from hilltop to high heaven, and the great red sun of the tropics peers an instant over the mountain wall that shuts in Acapulco.