is heart? And he raged
against himself, as a man bites on a sore tooth, in a heady sensuality
of scorn. "I have no pride, I have no heart, no manhood," he thought,
"or why should I prolong a life more shameful than the gallows? Or why
should I have fallen to it? No pride, no capacity, no force. Not even a
bandit! and to be starving here with worse than banditti--with this
trivial hell-hound!" His rage against his comrade rose and flooded him,
and he shook a trembling fist at the sleeper.

A swift step was audible. The captain appeared upon the threshold of the
cell, panting and flushed, and with a foolish face of happiness. In his
arms he carried a loaf of bread and bottles of beer; the pockets of his
coat were bulging with cigars. He rolled his treasures on the floor,
grasped Herrick by both hands, and crowed with laughter.

"Broach the beer!" he shouted. "Broach the beer, and glory hallelujah!"

"Beer?" repeated Huish, struggling to his feet.

"Beer it is!" cried Davis. "Beer, and plenty of it. Any number of
persons can use it (like Lyon's tooth-tablet) with perfect propriety and
neatness.--Who's to officiate?"

"Leave me alone for that," said the clerk. He knocked the necks off with
a lump of coral, and each drank in succession from the shell.

"Have a weed," said Davis. "It's all in the bill."

"What is up?" asked Herrick.

The captain fell suddenly grave. "I'm coming to that," said he. "I want
to speak with Herrick here. You, Hay--or Huish, or whatever your name
is--you take a weed and the other bottle, and go and see how the wind is
down by the _purao_. I'll call you when you're wanted!"

"Hey? Secrets? That ain't the ticket," said Huish.

"Look here, my son," said the captain, "this is business, and don't you
make any mistake about it. If you're going to make trouble, you can have
it your own way and stop right here. Only get the thing right: if
Herrick and I go, we take the beer. Savvy?"

"O, I don't want to shove my oar in," returned Huish. "I'll cut right
enough. Give me the swipes. You can jaw till you're blue in the face for
what I care. I don't think it's the friendly touch, that's all." And he
shambled grumbling out of the cell into the staring sun.

The captain watched him clear of the courtyard; then turned to Herrick.

"What is it?" asked Herrick thickly.

"I'll tell you," said Davis. "I want to consult you. It's a chance we've
got.--What's that?" he cried, pointing to the music on the wa