miss. When I go in, the blacks never bother about
the stumps, but just let fly at random on the chance of winging me. Last
match here, I hit their crack fast bowler all over the island, and he
got mad at last, and gave up attempting to bowl me, but just tried to
kill me."

"You scored off him, though," said our Fourth Officer, who remembered
the incident.

[Illustration: "NEARLY KNOCKED A LIMB OFF HIM."]

"I did," admitted the Treasure. "I slapped one straight back, as hard as
ever I could lay in to it, and he funked it, and tried to get out of the
way and failed. I nearly knocked a limb off him, and then he abandoned
the ball, and went and sulked and chattered to himself in the deep
field."

The Doctor said it would give him great pleasure to play, but he added
that he should feel very averse to bowling against anybody with nothing
on. Then the Model Man answered:

"You need not fear. The negroes are very particular about pads and such
things. They don't wear shoes, for nothing could hurt their feet, but
they never dream of batting without leg-guards, because a nigger's shins
are his weak spot. These fellows are not much good at cricket after you
have once hit them hard. Either they get cross and throw up the whole
thing, and leave the ground and go home to their families, or else they
become frightened and servile. I have known them almost beg for mercy
before each ball."

"You'll play, of course," said the Fourth Officer to me.

"Certainly, if you will," I answered. Then he replied:

"I shall undoubtedly play. I'm not a man who does much with the bat, but
my bowling is rather out of the common. I have a natural leg-break which
baffles fellows frightfully. Why, there was a question raised once about
playing me for my county."

I did not ask him which county, because one should never goad a willing
horse. The Fourth Officer had been in a thoroughly mendacious vein ever
since we left St. Kitts; the fault grew upon him, and now he began to
utter transparent inaccuracies at all hours, from sheer love of them.

After much argument and conversation, our team was finally selected, the
last man chosen being a black stoker of great size and strength.

"I regard him as a speculation," explained the Captain of our side;
"either he will get out first ball or make a hundred. There are no
half-measures with him."

As we approached the ground on the following morning, our Model Man
confided to me a great source of anx