a trading steamer might appear, bringing things which were urgently needed. The planter could pay for them with his pearls, but that would be a ruinous way of disposing of them, for no trading skipper would give more than a third of their true value. Keith reckoned that, given a proper market for them he could realize between ten and twelve hundred dollars apiece for the two large pearls, and, say, another hundred and fifty for the balance. South Sea values are not those of the Rue de la Paix, nor Bond Street, and Chester didn't take to the notion of haggling over the side of a schooner with some stony-hearted master mariner, and letting the pearls go for a tithe of their real value. His capital was coming to an end just about eighteen months too soon. Were he able to hang out till his first crops were ready to be shipped that would enable him to turn the corner. As it was disaster was staring him in the face. He became moody and taciturn, eating his meals in silence and spending much of his time alone when ashore, smoking and brooding over his troubles. Joan and Keith tried to rouse him from this slough of despondency but with little effect.
"Shift your ground again, man," Keith urged. "Have a go at the northeast side of the reef for a change. You haven't given that part a trial yet, have you?"
"Not yet," said the planter. "Maybe I will,
