Anyway, here's the story: Parlay's a full-blooded Frenchman.
Ashore, where Parlay's house had been, was no vestige of any house.
"Oh, hush your croaking, Parlay," chided one of the captains.
Parlay looked at the barometer, giggled, and leered around at his guests.
There was no sign of life where Parlay's big house perched on the sand.
They had been forced to stand a good five yards away during the parlay, cut off from direct contact by the Imperial guards.
The house of Parlay was a big two-story frame affair, built of California lumber, with a galvanized iron roof.
Parlay skipped with astonishing nimbleness across the crowded room to the barometer on the wall.
The rest of them followed his example, pausing once to watch one of Parlay's shell sheds go down in ruin.
The wreck of Parlay's house was picked up, hurled into the lagoon, and blown out upon them.