"Say, Mr. Crawshay," Brand began, stopping him as soon as he had
emerged from the companionway, "I'd like to shake hands with you. My
name's Brand. I'm a newspaper man."

Crawshay shook hands, although he showed no particular enthusiasm
about the proceeding.

"And I am Clark, of the Minneapolis _Record_" the small, dark man, who
was generally by Brand's side, added. "Put it there, sir."

Crawshay put it there with an incipient reluctance which the two men
were not slow to note.

"Kind of shock to you yesterday, no doubt," Brand began. "It was a
fine, plucky thing to do, sir. Ever flown before?"

"Never," Crawshay confessed. "The sensation was--er--entirely new to
me. I found the descent upon the water most uncomfortable." "Soaked
your shore clothes, eh?" Brand observed.

"I was not attired for the proceeding," Crawshay admitted. "I was, in
fact, very inappropriately dressed. I was wearing a thin flannel suit,
which was completely ruined, and I do not think that I shall ever be
warm again."

Mr. Brand glanced longingly at his wrist watch and sighed.

"I make it a rule, sir," he said, "never to drink before twelve
o'clock, but there is no rule without an exception. If you think that
a double jigger of gin, with a little lemon and--"