J. Archibald McKackney
had discovered an herb which would make a dyestuff that was warranted not to fade, crock or get rusty in three lifetimes. It was their copper-fastened secret, and they had tried it on several sets of false whiskers. These appendages they had hung in the scorchin' sun and left out in the rain and towed behind 'em at sea for four years. And the crimson tint of them whiskers hadn't altered enough to be visible to the naked eye.
"The man from Maaloo Island had a brother that hadn't been home since he was a boy. Being a perfect stranger to all hands in them waters, the plot was to dye the brother's whiskers red, he having the most wonderful natural bunch in all the Injun Ocean. Then they was to land him on Lemuel Wilkins Island with some kind of flim-flam and deludin' ceremonies, like he had hopped off a passin' cloud.
"It looked all right. My poor islanders had never seen no dyestuff of any kind, and they didn't know that red whiskers growed anywhere except where their gods come from.
