"Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. ” “I wonder,” he said, a trifle irrelevantly, “what the future has in store for you. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. "Not so," replied Jack, throwing down the skreen. It will not cost you more than six hundred to reach your destination.
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