savage. Most small creatures were afraid of that snarl, but it had no
deterrent effect on Jerry, who continued his steady stalking. When the
wild-dog sprang for the hole under the boxes, Jerry sprang after, missing
his enemy by inches. Tossing overboard bits of wood, bottles and empty
tins, Captain Van Horn ordered the eight eager boat's crew with rifles to
turn loose. Jerry was excited and delighted with the fusillade, and
added his puppy yelpings to the noise. As the empty brass cartridges
were ejected, the return boys scrambled on the deck for them, esteeming
them as very precious objects and thrusting them, still warm, into the
empty holes in their ears. Their ears were perforated with many of these
holes, the smallest capable of receiving a cartridge, while the larger
ones contained-clay pipes, sticks of tobacco, and even boxes of matches.
Some of the holes in the ear-lobes were so huge that they were plugged
with carved wooden cylinders three inches in diameter.

Mate and captain carried automatics in their belts, and with these they
turned loose, shooting away clip after clip to the breathless admiration
of the blacks for such marvellous rapidity of fire. The boat's crew were
not even fair shots, but Van Horn, like every captain in the Solomons,
knew that the bush natives and salt-water men were so much worse shots,
and knew that the shooting of his boat's crew could be depended upon--if
the boat's crew itself did not turn against the ship in a pinch.

At first, Borckman's automatic jammed, and he received a caution from Van
Horn for his carelessness in not keeping it clean and thin-oiled. Also,
Borckman was twittingly asked how many drinks he had taken, and if that
was what accounted for his shooting being under his average. Borckman
explained that he had a touch of fever, and Van Horn deferred stating his
doubts until a few minutes later, squatting in the shade of the spanker
with Jerry in his arms, he told Jerry all about it.

"The trouble with him is the schnapps, Jerry," he explained. "Gott-fer-
dang, it makes me keep all my watches and half of his. And he says it's
the fever. Never believe it, Jerry. It's the schnapps--just the plain s-
c-h-n-a-p-p-s schnapps. An' he's a good sailor-man, Jerry, when he's
sober. But when he's schnappy he's sheer lunatic. Then his noddle goes
pinwheeling and he's a blighted fool, and he'd snore in a gale and suffer
for sleep in a dead calm.--Jerry, you're just