“It is so hot in the cabin.”

This was all she had for me.  Then she looked at Gazza with returning animation.

“Oh, la la!” said Gazza.  “If it is hot in the cabin!” And he flirted his handkerchief back and forth.

“I think I had the best of it,” I remarked.  “All the melody and none of the temperature.”

Hortense saw no need of noticing me further

“The singer has the worst of it,” said Gazza.

“But since you all sang!” I laughed.

“Miss Rieppe, she is cool,” continued Gazza.  “And she danced.  It is not fair.”

John contributed nothing.  He was by no means playing up now.  He was looking away at the shore.

Gazza hummed a little fragment.  “But after lunch I will sing you good music.”

“So long as it keeps us cool,” I suggested.

“Ah, no!  It will not be cool music!” cried Gazza—­“for those who understand.”

“Are those boys bathing?” Hortense now inquired.

We watched the distant figures, and presently they flashed into the water.

“Oh, me!” sighed Gazza.  “If I were a boy!”

Hortense looked at him.  “You would be afraid.”  The devilment had come out again, suddenly and brilliantly: 

“I never have been afraid!” declared Gazza.

“You would not jump in after me,” said Hortense, taking his measure more and more provokingly.

Gazza laid his hand on his heart.  “Where you go, I will go!”

Hortense looked at him, and laughed very slightly and lightly.

“I swear it!  I swear!” protested Gazza.

John’s eyes were now fixed upon Hortense.

“Would you go?” she asked him

“Decidedly not!” he returned.  I don’t know whether he was angry or anxious.

“Oh, yes, you would!” said Hortense; and she jumped into the water, cigarette and all.

“Get a boat, quick,” said John to me; and with his coat flung off he was in the river, whose current Hortense could scarce have reckoned with; for they were both already astern as I ran out on the port boat boom.

Gazza was dancing and shrieking, “Man overboard!” which, indeed, was the correct expression, only it did not apply to himself.  Gazza was a very sensible person.  I had, as I dropped into the nearest boat, a brisk sight of the sailing-master, springing like a jack-in-the-box on the deserted deck, with a roar of “Where’s that haymaker?” His reference was to the anchor watch.  The temptation to procure good matches to light his pipe had ended (I learned later) by proving too much for this responsible sailor-man, and he had unfortunately chosen for going below just the unexpected moment when it had entered the daring head of Hortense to perform this extravagance.  Of course, before I had pulled many strokes, the deck of the Hermana was alive with many manifestations of life-saving and they had most likely been in time.  But I am not perfectly sure of this; the current was