The steamer proceeded down the river with just enough speed on to give her steering way. Frowningshield sat very silent, but his host made up with loquacity for the other’s taciturnity. He told entertaining stories, and related odd experiences, and all with a delicate courtesy, as if his guest was the most honored of men, instead of being merely an adventurer and a marauder on a gold quest. The captain drew up expertly at the landing. Nothing was to be seen of the _Rajah_ that so lately had been berthed there. In spite of the fact that they saw their boss stepping ashore, large groups of men had ceased work, and were standing twenty or thirty yards back from the landing, viewing with eyes of wonderment the trim white steamer that had come out of the wilderness. Frowning-shield stepped ashore like a man in a dream, and a couple of stewards placed the cases of champagne and the boxes of cigars on the rock beside him. Lord Stranleigh leaned against the rail, and bade farewell to the manager. “Wouldn’t you like to come on to Plymouth with us?” he said. “Penny all the way. County Council express boat. No stop between Chelsea and London Bridge.” “God knows I wish I could,” said Frowning-shield, with a deep sigh. “Well, at least,” cried Stranleigh cheerfully, “we’ve had one pleasant afternoon, and I’m more than grateful for your company. I hope that you will find valuable minerals on this spot; a second Klondike or Kimberley in either gold or diamonds. Somehow I think you’ll be successful, and so I’ll leave you my best wishes. Good-by, good-by.” The steamer was moving off down the river as Stranleigh waved his hand at the choice gang of ruffians that manned the highest outcrop of the reef. “After all,” he murmured to himself, “they’re Englishmen, poor devils, and we’re all a long way from home!” The manager standing there on the rock suddenly bethought himself, and raised his hat. A cheer broke forth from the outlaws, and they waved aloft tattered caps. “Pull the whistle, captain, with a hip-hip-hip-hurrah,” and the siren sounded across the delta. The manager stood for a long while watching the retreating boat, with his hands clasped behind him. “By God,” he said, “I don’t know what to make of that man! I believe the captain’s right, and that he’ll capture the _Rajah_ before nightfall, yet he’ll have no shot from my cannon.”