The purser chuckled. "He's a good un, Mac is. They say he liked to have
drowned Northrup after he had saved him."
Elliot was again following with his eyes the lilt of the girl's
movements. Apparently he had not heard what the officer said. At least
he gave no answer.
With a grin the purser opened another attack. "Don't blame you a bit,
Mr. Elliot. She's the prettiest colleen that ever sailed from Dublin
Bay."
The young man brought his eyes home. They answered engagingly the smile
of the purser.
"Who is she?"
"The name on the books is Sheba O'Neill."
"From Dublin, you say."
"Oh, if you want to be literal, her baggage says Drogheda. Ireland is
Ireland to me."
"Where is she bound for?"
"Kusiak."
The young woman passed them with a little nod of morning greeting to the
purser. Fine and dainty though she was, Miss O'Neill gave an impression
of radiant strength.
"Been with you all the way up the river?" asked Elliot after she had
passed.
"Yep. She came up on the Skagit from Seattle."
"What is she going to do at Kusiak?"
Again the purser grinned. "What do they all do--the good-looking ones?"
"Get married, you mean?"
"Surest thing you know.
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