ferred to the previous dispatch," retorted the Department.

"But it will kill him," said Skiddy, again crossing an ocean and a
continent.

"If the convict Satterlee should become ill, you are at liberty to send
him to the hospital."

"Yes, but there isn't any hospital," said Skiddy.

"The Department cannot withdraw from the position it took up, nor the
principle it laid down in Dispatch No. 214 B."

Thus the duel went on, while Skiddy cut down his cigars, sold his riding
horse, and generally economized. A regret stole over him that he hadn't
sentenced Satterlee to a shorter term, and he looked up the Consular
Instructions to see what pardoning powers he possessed. On this point
the little book was dumb. Not so the Department, however, to whom a hint
on the subject provoked the reply, "that by so doing you would stultify
your previous action and impugn the finding of the Consular Court. The
Department would view with grave displeasure, etc.----"

Satterlee soon made himself very much at home in the Scanlon prison. His
winning personality never showed to better advantage than in those days
of his eclipse. He dandled the Scanlon off-spring on his knee; helped
the women with their household tasks; played checkers with the burly
brothers. He was prodigiously respected. He gathered in the Scanlon
hearts, even to uncles and second cousins. You would have taken him for
a patriarch in the bosom of a family of which he was the joy and pride.
He received the best half-caste society on his front porch, and
dispensed Scanlon hospitality with a lavish hand. These untutored souls
had no proper conception of barratry. They couldn't see any crime in
running away with a schooner. They pitied the captain as a bold spirit
who had met with undeserved misfortunes. The Samoan has ever a
sympathetic hand for the fallen mighty, and the hand is never empty of a
gift. Bananas, pineapples, _taro_, sugar cane, _palusami_, sucking pigs,
chickens, eggs, _valo_--all descended on Satterlee in wholesale lots.
Girls brought him _leis_ of flowers to wear round his neck; anonymous
friends stole milk for his refreshment; pigeon hunters, returning
singing from the mountains, deferentially laid their best at his feet.
Nothing was too good for this unfortunate chief, who bore himself so
nobly, and had a smile and a kind word for even the humblest of his
admirers.

On Sundays Skiddy paid the captain a periodical visit. He would bring
the latest papers,