the chief says as you chaps can drag one of his fish-ponds."

The mate was tempted; but his orders were to allow only the man Maurice
to land, and to make haste back as soon as his mission was accomplished.
Shaking his head to the renegade's wily suggestion, he, however, told
Maurice that he could go and endeavour to communicate with Deschard. In
the meantime he would return to the ship, and tell the captain--"and the
other" (these last words with a look full of meaning at the young man)
that everything was going on all right.

Foiled in his plan of inducing all the men to come ashore, Corton
assumed a careless manner, and told Maurice that he was still willing to
conduct him to Deschard, but that he would not be able to return to the
ship that night, as the distance was too great.

The mate was agreeable to this, and bidding the beachcomber and his
victim good-day he returned to the ship.

Holding the young man's hand in his, the burly renegade passed through
the crowd of silent natives, and spoke to them in their own tongue.

"Hide well thy spears and clubs, my children; 'tis not yet time to act."

Still clasping the hand of his companion, he led the way through the
native town, and then into the narrow bush track that led to Oneaka, and
in another five minutes they were alone, or apparently so, for nought
could be heard in the fast gathering darkness but their own footsteps as
they trod the leafy path, and the sound of the breaching surf long miles
away.

Suddenly the beachcomber stopped, and in a harsh voice said--

"What is the good news for Deschard?"

"That I cannot tell you," answered the stripling, firmly, though the
grim visage, tattooed body, and now threatening aspect of his questioner
might well have intimidated even a bolder man, and instinctively he
thrust his hand into the bosom of his shirt and grasped a letter he
carried there.

"Then neither shall Deschard know it," said the man savagely, and
throwing himself upon the young man he bore him to the ground, while
shadowy, naked figures glided out from the blackness of the forest and
bound and gagged him without a sound. Then carrying him away from the
path the natives placed him, without roughness, under the shelter of an
empty house, and then left him.

The agony of mind endured by the helpless prisoner may be imagined when,
unable to speak or move, he saw the beachcomber and his savage followers
vanish into the darkness; for the letter whi