dy, and that makes a good beginning for this new republic;
and when we've got things organized a bit more, and have a trifle of
time, we can grab some others. And, by James! Doc, there's a name for
you--the New Republic!"

"I seem to think it's been used in a book somewhere."

"The New Republic!" Kettle repeated relishingly. "It goes well. It's
certain to have been used before, but it's good enough to be used again.
Some day, perhaps, it'll have railways, and public-houses, and a postal
service, and some day it may even issue stamps of its own."

"With your mug in the middle!"

Captain Kettle reddened. "I don't see why not," he said stiffly. "I
started the show, and by James! whilst I'm running it, the New
Republic's got to hum; and when I'm gone, I shall be remembered as some
one out of the common. I'm a man, Doctor Clay, that's got a high sense
of duty. I should think it wrong to stay here sweating ivory out of
these people, if I didn't put something into them in return."

"Well, you do seem to have got a hold over them, and that's a fact, and
I guess you will be able to make them--" he broke off, and burst into a
cackle of laughter. "Oh, my Christian aunt, look there!"

A mob of natives were reverently approaching the hut, two of them
carrying skinny chickens. The witch-doctor led the advance. Kettle
guessed what was intended, and got up from his seat to interfere.

"Oh, look here, Skipper," Clay pleaded, "don't spoil the show. Let's do
the traveller for once, and observe the 'interesting native customs.'
You needn't be afraid; they're going to sacrifice the bigger hen to you,
right enough."

Captain Kettle allowed himself to be persuaded, and sat back again. The
mob of negroes came up to the doorway of the hut, and the witch-doctor,
with many prostrations to the little sailor, made a long speech. Then
the larger of the two fowls entered into the ceremony, and was slain
with a sword, and the witch-doctor, squatting on the ground, read
the omens.

Kettle accepted the homage with glum silence, evidently restraining
himself, but when Clay's turn came, and the smaller and scraggier of the
chickens yielded up life in his honor, he hitched up his feet, and
squatted cross-legged on the chair, and held up his hand palm outward,
after the manner of some grotesque Chinese idol. A sense of the absurd
was one of the many things which had hampered this disreputable doctor
all through his unlucky career.

The negroes,