ood, Louis----" he began, when Roka's carbine
rang out, and the supercargo spun round, staggering, and then fell upon
his hands and knees, with the blood gushing in torrents from his mouth.

Hendry, taking no heed of anything but his own safety, dashed into the
undergrowth and disappeared.

Running past Chard, rifle in hand, the Manhikian launched a curse at the
groaning man, who heard him not in his agony. Leaping from pool to pool
over the rough, jagged coral, which cut and tore his feet and legs, the
seaman sprang to Harvey's aid, and a hoarse sob of joy burst from him
when he saw that he was not dead.

"My thigh is broken, Roka. Carry me to the shore quickly, and then
haste, haste, good Roka, and warn the others. These men of Pikirami are
traitors. Haste thee, dear friend, if ye be a good man and true, and
help to save the woman who is dear to me."

Tearing off the sleeves of Harvey's shirt, Roka, as he answered, bound
them tightly over the wound to stay the flow of blood. "Nay, master,
'tis not the men of Pikirami. 'Tis the captain and the _tuhi tuhi_{*}
who have done this to thee. Nay, question me no more... so, gently, let
me lift thee."

He raised Harvey up in his mighty arms as if he were a child, his right
hand still grasping the Snider carbine, and carried him carefully to the
beach. There he laid him down for a while.

"Stay not here with me, Roka of Manhiki," said Harvey, trying hard
to speak calmly, though he was suffering the greatest agony from his
wound--"stay not here, but run, run quickly, so that there may be no
more murder done. Leave me here.... Tell the _sua alii_{**} to get the
people together and hunt and slay those two men. Give them no mercy."

* I.e., one who writes--a supercargo or clerk.

** The mate, chief officer--one next in command to a
captain.

"No mercy shall they have," said the Manhikian grimly; "so rest thee
content for a little while.... _Aue!_"

He sprang to his feet, carbine in hand, for from out the thickset jungle
there emerged a thing of horror to look upon.

Chard, leaning upon his Winchester, was staggering down to the beach,
with his lower jaw shot away. He came blindly on towards the man he had
sought to murder, gasping and groaning. Then he saw Roka, dropped his
Winchester, threw up his hands, and tried to speak.

Roka walked up to him.

"'Tis better for thee to die quickly," he said.

The supercargo swayed to and fro, and mutely held out