f on his elbow. He, too, seemed
to be listening eagerly and to feel some sort of alarm.

"Some one is coming!" said Rob. Now, indeed, there was no doubt. They
heard shuffling foot-falls and many voices in some confused speech which
they could not understand.

"I'm afraid!" said Jesse. "They're not white people."

Rob raised a warning hand that they should all be silent. At last a loud
voice called out to them in broken English:

"White mans there! You come out! Me good mans! All good mans!"

The faces of all inside the hut were now very serious, for they did not
know what might be the nature of these visitors, and there was no window
or crack through which they could peer. Jimmy made no motion to go out
of the door, but, on the contrary, was trying to hide behind the pile of
fox-traps under the low eaves.

"One thing is certain," said Rob, with determination: "we're trapped in
here, and can't get out without their seeing us, whoever they are. So
come on and let's go out and face them. Are you ready now?"

The others, silent and anxious, crawled close behind him as he pushed
open the door and sprang out, rifle in hand.

They found themselves surrounded by nearly a score of natives--short,
squat fellows with wild, black hair, most of them in half-civilized
garments. They bore all sorts of weapons, some of them having rifles,
others short harpoons, and bows and arrows. A large, dark-faced native
seemed to be their leader, and seeing the boys now ready to defend
themselves, he shifted his gun to his left hand and held out his right
with a smile, continuing his broken English.

[Illustration: HE SHIFTED HIS GUN TO HIS LEFT HAND AND HELD OUT HIS
RIGHT WITH A SMILE]

"Good mans me," he said. "You good mans. Plenty fliend, all light, all
light, all light!"

He continued to repeat these last words as though they would serve for
the rest of the conversation. Rob, willing enough to accept his
assurance of friendship, shook him by the hand, all the time, however,
keeping his eyes open for the wild-looking group around him.

"Come dat ways, bidarka!" said the chief, pointing to the beach beyond
the sea-wall. "Hunt bad mans. You see-um bad mans? Him steal."

John touched Rob quietly on the arm and whispered to him: "He means
Jimmy," he said. "They are after him, and he knows it. That's why he
wouldn't come out."

"You see-um bad mans?" asked the chief, eagerly. "Him there?" He pointed
at the door of the barabbara, an