“Miss Keene!” ejaculated both gentlemen.

“Oh dear!  I beg your pardon,” said the young lady, reddening, with a naive mingling of hilarity and embarrassment.  “But it seemed so stuffy in the cabin, and it seemed so easy to get out on deck and pull myself up by the railings; and just as I got up here, I suddenly seemed to be sliding down the roof of a house.”

“And now that you’re here, your courage should be rewarded,” said the Senor, gallantly assisting her to a settee, which he lashed securely.  “You are perfectly safe now,” he added, holding the end of the rope in his hand to allow a slight sliding movement of the seat as the vessel rolled.  “And here is a glorious spectacle for you.  Look! the sun is just rising.”

The young girl glanced over the vast expanse before her with sparkling eyes and a suddenly awakened fancy that checked her embarrassed smile, and fixed her pretty, parted lips with wonder.  The level rays of the rising sun striking the white crests of the lifted waves had suffused the whole ocean with a pinkish opal color:  the darker parts of each wave seemed broken into facets instead of curves, and glittered sharply.  The sea seemed to have lost its fluidity, and become vitreous; so much so, that it was difficult to believe that the waves which splintered across the Excelsior’s bow did not fall upon her deck with the ring of shattered glass.

“Sindbad’s Valley of Diamonds!” said the young girl, in an awed whisper.

“It’s a cross sea in the Gulf of California, so the mate says,” said Banks practically; “but I don’t see why we” . . .

“The Gulf of California?” repeated the young girl, while a slight shade of disappointment passed over her bright face; “are we then so near”—­

“Not the California you mean, my dear young lady,” broke in Senor Perkins, “but the old peninsula of California, which is still a part of Mexico.  It terminates in Cape St. Lucas, a hundred miles from here, but it’s still a far cry to San Francisco, which is in Upper California.  But I fancy you don’t seem as anxious as our friend Mr. Banks to get to your journey’s end,” he added, with paternal blandness.

The look of relief which had passed over Miss Keene’s truthful face gave way to one of slight embarrassment.

“It hasn’t seemed long,” she said hastily; and then added, as if to turn the conversation, “What is this peninsula?  I remember it on our map at school.”

“It’s not of much account,” interrupted Banks positively.  “There ain’t a place on it you ever heard of.  It’s a kind of wilderness.”

“I differ from you,” said Senor Perkins gravely.  “There are, I have been told, some old Mexican settlements along the coast, and there is no reason why the country shouldn’t be fruitful.  But you may have a chance to judge for yourself,” he continued beamingly.  “Since we are not going into Mazatlan, we may drop in at some of those places for water.  It’s all on our way,