e would be no more
hard labour at ship-building, and no risking their lives upon a crudely
built makeshift that would be quite as likely to go to the bottom as it
would to reach the mainland.

Also, they were to have assistance in capturing the woman, or rather
women, for when Momulla had learned that there was a black woman in the
other camp he had insisted that she be brought along as well as the
white woman.

As Kai Shang and Momulla entered their camp, it was with a realization
that they no longer needed Gust. They marched straight to the tent in
which they might expect to find him at that hour of the day, for though
it would have been more comfortable for the entire party to remain
aboard the ship, they had mutually decided that it would be safer for
all concerned were they to pitch their camp ashore.

Each knew that in the heart of the others was sufficient treachery to
make it unsafe for any member of the party to go ashore leaving the
others in possession of the Cowrie, so not more than two or three men
at a time were ever permitted aboard the vessel unless all the balance
of the company was there too.

As the two crossed toward Gust's tent the Maori felt the edge of his
long knife with one grimy, calloused thumb. The Swede would have felt
far from comfortable could he have seen this significant action, or
read what was passing amid the convolutions of the brown man's cruel
brain.

Now it happened that Gust was at that moment in the tent occupied by
the cook, and this tent stood but a few feet from his own. So that he
heard the approach of Kai Shang and Momulla, though he did not, of
course, dream that it had any special significance for him.

Chance had it, though, that he glanced out of the doorway of the cook's
tent at the very moment that Kai Shang and Momulla approached the
entrance to his, and he thought that he noted a stealthiness in their
movements that comported poorly with amicable or friendly intentions,
and then, just as they two slunk within the interior, Gust caught a
glimpse of the long knife which Momulla the Maori was then carrying
behind his back.

The Swede's eyes opened wide, and a funny little sensation assailed the
roots of his hairs. Also he turned almost white beneath his tan.
Quite precipitately he left the cook's tent. He was not one who
required a detailed exposition of intentions that were quite all too
obvious.

As surely as though he had heard them plotting, he k