finished his cup of coffee at a gulp and went on deck.

The Kandavu aborigines were not long in putting in an appearance.
Even as Mr. Gibney came on deck half a dozen canoes shot out from
the beach. Mr. Gibney immediately piped all hands on deck, armed
them, and nonchalantly awaited the approach of what might or
might not turn out to be an enemy.

When the flotilla was within pistol shot of the schooner Mr.
Gibney stepped to the rail and motioned them back. Immediately
the natives ceased paddling, and a wild-looking fellow stood up
in the forward canoe. After the manner of his kind he had all his
life soused his head in lime-water when making his savage
toilette, and as a result his shock of black hair stood on end
and bulged out like a crowded hayrick. He was naked, of course,
and in his hand he held a huge war club.

"That feller'd eat a rattlesnake," gasped Captain Scraggs. "Shoot
him, Gib, if he bats an eye."

"Shut up," said the commodore, a trifle testily; "that's the
number-one nigger, who does the talkin'. Hello, boy."

"Hello, cap'n," replied the savage, and salaamed gravely. "You
likee buy chicken, buy pig? Maybe you say come 'board, I talk. Me
very good friend white master."

"Bless my sweet-scented soul!" gasped the commodore. "What won't
them missionaries do next? Cut off my ears if this nigger ain't
civilized!" He beckoned to the canoe and it shot alongside, and