At the moment we arrived forward, five Chinese, like so many bees,
came swarming out of the little 'tween-decks cabin, the sleep still
in their eyes.

Leading them came a big, muscular man, conspicuous for his pock-
marked face and the yellow silk handkerchief swathed about his
head. It was Yellow Handkerchief, the Chinaman whom we had
arrested for illegal shrimp-fishing the year before, and who, at
that time, had nearly sunk the Reindeer, as he had nearly sunk it
now by violating the rules of navigation.

"What d'ye mean, you yellow-faced heathen, lying here in a fairway
without a horn a-going?" Charley cried hotly.

"Mean?" Neil calmly answered. "Just take a look--that's what he
means."

Our eyes followed the direction indicated by Neil's finger, and we
saw the open amidships of the junk, half filled, as we found on
closer examination, with fresh-caught shrimps. Mingled with the
shrimps were myriads of small fish, from a quarter of an inch
upward in size.

Yellow Handkerchief had lifted the trap-net at high-water slack,
and, taking advantage of the concealment offered by the fog, had
boldly been lying by, waiting to lift the net again at low-water
slack.

"Well," Neil hummed and hawed, "in all my varied and extensive