e Lascar
feebly, nodding toward the dead Englishman. "Give me more arrack. I will
tell you something. Hurry, for I go soon."

Jan brought him the liquor, and he gulped it. Then from a pouch within
his knotted silk waistband he hurriedly produced a bit of paper which he
unfolded with trembling fingers, Jan saw that it was a rough map
sketched with India ink and marked with Malayan characters. The Lascar
peered about him with fierce eyes already growing dim.

"Are you sure they are all gone?" he demanded.

"Certain!" answered Jan, highly interested.

"They'll try their best to kill you," went on the dying man. "Don't let
them. If you let them get the pearls, I'll come back and haunt you."

"I won't let them kill me, and I won't let them get the pearls, if
that's what it is that's made all the trouble. Don't worry about that,"
responded Jan confidently, reaching out his great hand for the paper,
which was evidently so precious that men were giving up their lives for
it.

The man handed it over with a groping gesture, though his savage black
eyes were wide open.

"That'll show you where the wreck of the junk lies, in seven or eight
fathom of water, close inshore. The pearls are in the deck-house. _He_
kept them. The steamer was on a reef, going to pieces, and we came up
just as the boats were putting off. We sunk them all, and got the
pearls. And next night, in a storm, the junk was carried on to the rocks
by a current we didn't know about. Only five of us got ashore--for the
sharks were around, and the 'killers,' that night. _Him_ and me, we
were the only ones knew enough to make that map."

Here the dying pirate--for such he had declared himself--sank forward
with his face upon his knees. But with a mighty effort he sat up again
and fixed Jan Laurvik with terrible eyes.

"Don't let the sons of a dog get them, or I will come back and choke you
in your sleep," he gasped, suddenly pointing a lean finger straight at
the Norseman's face. Then his black eyes opened wide, a strange red
light blazed up in them for an instant and faded. With a sigh he toppled
over, dead, his head resting on the dead Englishman's feet.

II

Jan Laurvik looked down upon the slack form with a sort of grim
indulgence. "He was game, and he loved his comrade, though he _was_ but
a bloody-hearted pirate!" he muttered to himself.

With the paper folded small and hidden in his great palm, he glanced
again from the door to see if any of the