why of it eluded him. Why?
Affection? Friendship? It must be so, and he warmed toward the silent
little man with the sunken eyes and the expressionless face from which
he could never raise a wink.

"Hy, you, Karaki, what name you no laugh all same me? What? You too much
fright 'long that fella stuff you steal? Forget it, you old black scamp.
If they ever trouble you, I'll square them somehow. By George, I'll say
I stole it myself!"

Karaki only grunted and sat down to clean his Winchester with a bit of
rag and some drops of oil he had crushed from a dried coconut.

"No, that don't reach him either," murmured Pellett, baffled. "I'd like
to know what's going on under that topknot of yours, old chap. You're
like Kipling's cat, that walks by himself. God knows I'm not ungrateful.
I wish I could show you--"

He sprang up.

"Karaki! Me one big fella friend 'long you: savee? You one big fella
friend 'long me: savee? We two dam big fella friend, my word!... What?"

"Yes," said Karaki. No other response. He looked at Pellett and he
looked away toward Bougainville. "Yes," he said, "my word," and went on
cleaning his gun--the black islander, inscrutable, incomprehensible, an
enigma always, and to the end.

* * * * *

The end came two days later at Bougainville.

Under a gorgeous dawn they came into a bay that opened before their prow
as with jeweled arms of welcome. The land lay lapped in bright garments
like a sleeper half awakened, all flushed and smiling, sensuous
intimate, thrilling with life, breathing warm scents--

These were some of the foolish phrases Pellett babbled to himself as he
leaped ashore and ran up on a rocky point to see and to feel and to draw
all the charm of the place to himself.

Meanwhile Karaki, that simple and efficient little man, was proceeding
methodically about his own affairs. He landed his bolts of cloth, his
tobacco, his knives, and the other loot. He landed his box of cartridges
and his rifle and his fine tomahawk. The goods were somewhat damaged by
sea water, but the weapons had been carefully cleaned and polished....

Pellett was declaiming poetry aloud to the alluring solitude when he was
aware of a gentle footfall and turned, surprised to find Karaki standing
just behind him with the rifle at his hip and the ax in his hand.

"Well," said Pellett cheerfully, "what d'you want, old chappie?"

"Me like," said Karaki, while there gleamed in his eyes t