whaleboats, and with some of his people make for some other island
in the Carolines as quick as possible. And Sepe was to be Mrs. Frank
Porter.

"Then, before he knew what was the matter with him, I hit him under the
ear, and laid him out stiff; and after choking the girl a bit to keep
her quiet, I tied him up safely."

Palmer set his teeth, but said nothing. Then the half-caste, having
finished his pipe, rose.

"What are we going to do with him--hang him, or what?" he inquired,
coolly.

"Stand him out there on the beach and let one of the Ailap people shoot
him."

*****

Jinaban was led forth from Palmer's house into the village square,
and bound with his back to a coconut palm. On three sides of him were
assembled nearly every man, woman, and child on Las Matelotas Lagoon.
Not a sign of fear was visible in his dark, bearded face; only a look
of implacable hatred settled upon it when Palmer, followed by the
half-caste seaman and a servant boy, walked slowly down his verandah
steps and stood in full view of the assemblage. He was unarmed, but the
boy carried his rifle.

Raising his hand to command silence, the murmuring buzz of voices was
instantly hushed, and the trader spoke. There, said he, was the cruel
murderer who had so ruthlessly slain more than a score of men, women,
and children--many of whom were of his own blood. Jinaban must die, and
they must kill him. He himself, although he had good cause to slay him,
would not. Let one of those whose kith and kin had been slain by this
cruel man now take a just vengeance.

A young man stepped out from among the crowd, and Palmer, taking the
rifle from the boy who held it, placed it in his hand. He was the
brother of the girl whom Jinaban had shot through the legs and left to
die of starvation and thirst.

Slowly the young native raised the rifle to his shoulder, glanced along
the barrel, then grounded it on the sand.

"I cannot do it," he said, handing the weapon back. Jinaban heard and
laughed.

"Just what I thought would happen," muttered Palmer to Porter. "We
must hurry things along, even if we have to do it ourselves," and then,
raising his voice, he called out--

"Ten silver dollars to the man who will shoot Jinaban."

No one moved, and a low murmur passed from lip to lip among the crowded
natives. A minute passed.

"Oh, cowards!" said Palmer scornfully. "Twenty dollars!"

"Double it," said the half-caste in a low voice; "and be quick. I can