he schooner," muttered Ralli.

"Yes," said Lance, "_if we build them for you_; not otherwise. There is
not a man on this island, outside our own party, who could complete the
schooner, much less build the battery. Now, do you begin to understand
that I was only speaking the truth when I spoke of your being at our
mercy."

Ralli was silent. He stood with knitted brows intently cogitating for
some minutes; then suddenly looking up into Lance's face with a smile he
said--

"Ah, bah! what obtuse people you English are; how impossible for you to
understand a little joke! Well, I will joke no more since you cannot
understand it. We will be good friends all round; the best of friends;
you shall have no cause to complain of bad treatment; and you will work
_hard_ to finish the schooner and the battery _early_, please. I like
not what you said just now about Johnson and the frigate. But that too
was all a joke I know."

"You are mistaken," said Lance. "I confess I was dense enough not to
understand that you were joking, so I spoke in earnest. But I think we
clearly understand each other now; so I hope we shall hear no more about
threats, revenge, and nonsense of that kind."

And flinging his cigar-end into the water, Lance turned on his heel and
walked away.

Knowing, or at least shrewdly guessing that Ralli was watching him, he
sauntered away in his usual careless and easy fashion toward the hut,
which they had laughingly dubbed "Staunton Cottage," and entered it.

The ladies were busying themselves about various domestic tasks, and
little May was amusing herself with an uncouth wooden doll which Bob had
constructed for her. Lance was a prime favourite with May, so the
moment that he entered the doll was flung into a corner, and the child
came bounding up to him joyously exclaiming--

"Oh, you funny Mr Evelin, how is it that you have not gone with my
papa? Did you stay at home on purpose to play with me?"

"Well, not exactly, little one," answered Lance, catching her in his
arms and tossing her high in the air, to her infinite delight. "Not
exactly; although a man might be worse employed than in amusing you, you
mischievous little fairy. No; I am going to papa presently--and would
you like to come with me, May, in a nice little boat?"

"I don't know," answered the child doubtfully. "How far is it? I don't
think I like boats."

"No, you poor little mite, I expect not; it would be wonderful if you
did