did lose her, which was the fault of your Admiralty charts. I am a
navigator, and that is more than your Solomons captains are. Captain
Young told me all about it. And I am a seaman--a better seaman than you,
when it comes right down to it, and you know it. I can shoot. I am not
a fool. I can take care of myself. And I shall most certainly buy a
ketch, run her myself, and go recruiting on Malaita."

Sheldon made a hopeless gesture.

"That's right," she rattled on. "Wash your hands of me. But as Von used
to say, 'You just watch my smoke!'"

"There's no use in discussing it. Let us have some music."

He arose and went over to the big phonograph; but before the disc
started, and while he was winding the machine, he heard her saying:

"I suppose you've been accustomed to Jane Eyres all your life. That's
why you don't understand me. Come on, Satan; let's leave him to his old
music."

He watched her morosely and without intention of speaking, till he saw
her take a rifle from the stand, examine the magazine, and start for the
door.

"Where are you going?" he asked peremptorily.

"As between man and woman," she answered, "it would be too
terribly--er--indecent for you to tell me why I shouldn't go
alligatoring. Good-night. Sleep well."

He shut off the phonograph with a snap, started toward the door after
her, then abruptly flung himself into a chair.

"You're hoping a 'gator catches me, aren't you?" she called from the
veranda, and as she went down the steps her rippling laughter drifted
tantalizingly back through the wide doorway.

CHAPTER X--A MESSAGE FROM BOUCHER

The next day Sheldon was left all alone. Joan had gone exploring Pari-
Sulay, and was not to be expected back until the late afternoon. Sheldon
was vaguely oppressed by his loneliness, and several heavy squalls during
the afternoon brought him frequently on to the veranda, telescope in
hand, to scan the sea anxiously for the whale-boat. Betweenwhiles he
scowled over the plantation account-books, made rough estimates, added
and balanced, and scowled the harder. The loss of the _Jessie_ had hit
Berande severely. Not alone was his capital depleted by the amount of
her value, but her earnings were no longer to be reckoned on, and it was
her earnings that largely paid the running expenses of the plantation.

"Poor old Hughie," he muttered aloud, once. "I'm glad you didn't live to
see it, old man. What a cropper, what a crop