the island, and
of Berthe, the pretty half-caste daughter of Lafiere, the pearl-trader,
who was waiting for him at the end of it.

"Well, I am not Ah Chow. I am Ah Cho. The honourable jailer has made a
mistake. Ah Chow is a tall man, and you see I am short."

The sergeant looked at him hastily and saw the mistake. "Schemmer!" he
called, imperatively. "Come here."

The German grunted, but remained bent over his task till the chunk
of iron was lashed to his satisfaction. "Is your Chinago ready?" he
demanded.

"Look at him," was the answer. "Is he the Chinago?"

Schemmer was surprised. He swore tersely for a few seconds, and looked
regretfully across at the thing he had made with his own hands and
which he was eager to see work. "Look here," he said finally, "we can't
postpone this affair. I've lost three hours' work already out of those
five hundred Chinagos. I can't afford to lose it all over again for the
right man. Let's put the performance through just the same. It is only a
Chinago."

The sergeant remembered the long ride before him, and the pearl-trader's
daughter, and debated with himself.

"They will blame it on Cruchot--if it is discovered," the German urged.
"But there's little chance of its being discovered. Ah Chow won't give
it away, at any rate."

"The blame won't lie with Cruchot, anyway," the sergeant said. "It must
have been the jailer's mistake."

"Then let's go on with it. They can't blame us. Who can tell one Chinago
from another? We can say that we merely carried out instructions with
the Chinago that was turned over to us. Besides, I really can't take all
those coolies a second time away from their labour."

They spoke in French, and Ah Cho, who did not understand a word of it,
nevertheless knew that they were determining his destiny. He knew,
also, that the decision rested with the sergeant, and he hung upon that
official's lips.

"All right," announced the sergeant. "Go ahead with it. He is only a
Chinago."

"I'm going to try it once more, just to make sure." Schemmer moved the
banana trunk forward under the knife, which he had hoisted to the top of
the derrick.

Ah Cho tried to remember maxims from "The Tract of the Quiet Way." "Live
in concord," came to him; but it was not applicable. He was not going to
live. He was about to die. No, that would not do. "Forgive malice"--yes,
but there was no malice to forgive. Schemmer and the rest were doing
this thing without malice. It was t