ing a brief bid for authority until his interest in all earthly matters suddenly ceased, at the hands of Isa.
Keith was now watching in an agony of apprehension which he dared not put into words.
"God!" he muttered fervently at last, as the schooner's fluttering sails bellied and she stood out to sea. "I felt sure they were going to—" His voice trailed off as he met the girl's glance.
"Going to do what?" Joan asked.
"Going to have a picnic on our ketch to finish with," said Keith. "If the brutes had smashed her up that would have been the last straw. But they're too excited about something. Probably now that Moniz is dead they're hurrying to his place. They know there's a store of gin to loot there. Joan, we're going right up to the bungalow now. Keep your eyes very wide open, and shoot if a nigger even bats an eyelash at you, because they'll be all up in the air after last night's performance. I hope your brother is safe, dear, but I'm awfully afraid they got him."
They walked on the beach as far as the path leading up to the bungalow, without seeing anything of the blacks.
"Keep close to me," Keith urged as he stalked boldly ahead by the side of the trees. He stopped abruptly half way between the beach and the house.
"What name!" he called loudly, addressing a
