h of green palms and waving cocoanuts, back of the
city. A faint white line indicated the road to Lecoup.

"I tell you what, old man," said the consul, as he poured the mixture
from the shaker into the tall, thin glasses, "you are almightly lucky to
get out alive, and you took big chances. Stealing a god of the Voodoo
priests is about as dangerous an experiment as playing with fire over a
barrel of gunpowder. From your description I should judge the place you
found it was about fifteen miles back of Gantier."

Jones nodded in silence.

"Well," continued the consul, "it was somewhere in that vicinity they
killed that Frenchman last year, and how they ever let you get out alive
I don't know. They meant to kill you fast enough, tried to poison you at
Gantier, and knocked out that servant of yours. You escaped by not
drinking the coffee. Then some one shot at you on the road, and even
then you did not have sense enough to throw away the idol; but even if
you had I don't know that it would have made any difference. Then the
day before yesterday they put a bullet through your arm at Lecoup, and
if old Chabeau had not gone himself with you part of the way, I do not
believe you would ever have reached here alive. What on earth made you
monkey with that idol anyway?"

Jones explained that he could not resist the temptation to steal it. He
had been camping on the banks of a nearly dry stream, ten miles or more
east of Gantier, where he had found the little hummingbird, _Mellisuga
minima_, the smallest bird in the world, very abundant. He had also
trapped a specimen of the extremely rare _Solenodon_, and being anxious
to procure more he had stayed there for several days. Within half a mile
of his camp was a small stone tower open at the sides, in the middle of
which stood a little idol on a sort of pedestal. This little idol was
about eighteen inches high and was carved out of stone, the eyes oddly
enough being bone. Jones had cast longing glances on this idol, but did
not dare to touch it, or in fact to go into the tower, as the natives
were sullen and suspicious, and on more than one occasion showed signs
of being decidedly ugly.

Jones saw enough to confirm his impression that these people were a bad
lot, and one dark night he "folded his tent like the Arabs and silently
stole away," taking with him as a souvenir the little idol, which he had
carefully rolled in a blanket and packed on one side of his pack-horse
to balance