"It is not a question of my liking," I retorted, trying to preserve
an unmoved and lofty demeanor, though my heart was beating rather
quickly at finding myself actually crossing swords with the
redoubtable adventurer, this man who had often faced death, I could
not refuse to believe, as steadily as he was facing me now.

"It is not at all a question of my liking or not liking the trip,
but of the trip itself being--quite the wildest thing ever heard of
out of a story-book." Harsher terms had sprung first to my lips,
but had somehow failed to get beyond them.

"Ah--yet the world would be the poorer if certain wild trips had
not been taken. I seem to remember one Christopher Columbus, for
instance."

By a vivid lightning-flash of wrath I felt that this adventurer was
laughing at me a little under his sober exterior--even stirring me
up as one does an angry kitten.

"Yes," I flared out, "but Columbus did not inveigle a confiding old
lady to go along with him!" Of course Aunt Jane is not, properly
speaking, an old lady, but it was much more effective to pose her
as one for the moment.

It was certainly effective, to judge by the sudden firm setting of
his mouth.

"Lad," he said quietly, "lend a hand below, will you? They are
overhauling some of our stuff 'tween decks."