r inside, Adams," said Lieutenant Fenton, briefly.

With hands handcuffed behind his back and a seaman on each side, Jim
Swain was marched inside his father's house. A bullet had ploughed
through his left cheek, and he was bleeding profusely.

"Stand aside, old man," and the officer held up a warning hand to old
Jack. "It is folly for you to attempt to interfere."

And then a blue-jacket, almost as old as the trader himself, placed
himself between father and son.

Taking a paper from his pocket the officer read it to himself, glancing
every now and then at the prisoner.

"He's the man, sure enough," he muttered. "Poor devil!" Then turning to
the man Adams, he asked--"Are you absolutely certain that this is the
man, Adams?"

"Certain, sir. That is the man who murdered the boatswain of the
_Saginaw_. I took particular notice of him when I served in her, because
of his colour and size, and his sulky temper."

"Jim," broke in the old man's voice, quaveringly, "you haven't murdered
any one, hev' you?"

The half-caste raised his dark, lowering face and looked at his father,
and for a moment or so he breathed heavily.

"Yes, dad. I killed th' man. We had a muss in Valparaiso, an' I knifed
him."

Old Swain covered his face with his hands and sank into a seat, and then
Lieutenant Fenton walked over to him and placed a kindly hand on his
shoulder. Then he withdrew it quickly.

"I have a hard duty, Swain, and the sooner it is over the better. I am
ordered to arrest your son, James Swain, for the crime of murder and for
deserting from his ship. He will be taken to San Francisco. Whatever you
wish to say to him, do so now. In another ten minutes we must be on our
way to the ship, and there will be no further opportunity for you to see
him."

"Aye, aye, sir," said the old man, huskily, and rising he walked slowly
over to his manacled son, and put his trembling hand on his arm.

"You will excuse me, sir, if I talk to him in the native lingo."

Fenton nodded, motioned to the seamen who stood beside the prisoner to
move away, and then walked to the further end of the room.

"Jim," said the old trader, quickly, speaking in the native language,
"what's to be done? I have only got to send a native along the beach
with the shell{*} and we shall have you away from these people in no
time."

{*} The conch shell.

"No, no, father, even if every one of them was killed it would do no
good. An' they would never let me b