an rolling a paper cigarro, the woman flirting
idly her fan. His eyes glowing dully, he stared straight before him; a
spot of colour mounted on his cheekbones.

With an exclamation Talbot Ward arose swiftly but quietly and moved down
the veranda, motioning me to follow. He bent over Johnny's chair.

"I want to speak to you a moment," he said in a low voice.

Johnny looked up at him a moment defiantly. Talbot stood above him,
inflexibly waiting. With a muttered exclamation Johnny finally arose
from his chair. Ward grasped his arm and drew him through the wandering
natives, past the fringe of American spectators, and down the hard
moonlit path to the village.

Johnny jerked his arm loose and stopped short.

"Well, sir!" he demanded, his head high.

"You are on your way to California," said Ward, "and you are stopping
here over one night. The girl is pretty and graceful and with much
charm, but uneducated, and quite empty headed."

"I will thank you to leave all young ladies out of this discussion,"
broke in Johnny hotly.

"This young lady is the whole of this discussion and cannot be left
out."

"Then we will abandon the discussion."

"Also," said Talbot Ward irrelevantly, "did you notice how fat all their
mothers are?"

We were wandering forward slowly. Again Johnny stopped.

"I must tell you, sir, that I consider my affairs none of your business,
sir; and that I resent any interference with them," said he with heat.

"All right, Johnny," replied Talbot sadly; "I am not going to try to
advise you. Only I wanted to call your attention to all the elements of
the situation, which you probably had forgotten. I will repeat--and then
I am done--she is nothing to you, she is beneath you, you are stopping
here but one day, she is charming but ignorant--and her mother is very
fat. Now go have your fool fight--for that is what you are headed
straight for--if you think it at all worth while."

Johnny's generous heart must have been smiting him sorely, now that his
heat and excitement had had time to cool a little. He followed us a few
steps irresolutely. We came to the large tree by the wayside. The man
with the fever still sat there miserably indifferent to his
surroundings.

"Here, this won't do!" cried Talbot. "He mustn't be allowed to sit there
all night; he'll catch a chill sure. My friend, give us your arm. We'll
find you some sort of a bunk."

The man was dead.

We carried him to the village and raised