ed and laughed in delighted excitement.

"I'm awfully glad to see you," said the young man, eagerly. "My name's
Stedman. I'm from New Haven, Connecticut. Where are you from?"

"New York," said Albert. "This," he added, pointing solemnly to
Captain Travis, who was still on his knees in the boat, "is the
American consul to Opeki." The American consul to Opeki gave a wild
look at Mr. Stedman of New Haven and at the natives.

"See here, young man," he gasped, "is this all there is of Opeki?"

"The American consul?" said young Stedman, with a gasp of amazement,
and looking from Albert to Captain Travis. "Why, I never supposed they
would send another here; the last one died about fifteen years ago, and
there hasn't been one since. I've been living in the consul's office
with the Bradleys, but I'll move out, of course. I'm sure I'm awfully
glad to see you. It'll make it so much more pleasant for me."

"Yes," said Captain Travis, bitterly, as he lifted his rheumatic leg
over the boat; "that's why we came."

Mr. Stedman did not notice this. He was too much pleased to be
anything but hospitable. "You are soaking wet, aren't you?" he said;
"and hungry, I guess. You come right over to the consul's office and
get on some other things."

He turned to the natives and gave some rapid orders in their language,
and some of them jumped into the boat at this, and began to lift out
the trunks, and others ran off toward a large, stout old native, who
was sitting gravely on a log, smoking, with the rain beating unnoticed
on his gray hair.

"They've gone to tell the King," said Stedman; "but you'd better get
something to eat first, and then I'll be happy to present you properly."

"The King," said Captain Travis, with some awe; "is there a king?"

"I never saw a king," Gordon remarked, "and I'm sure I never expected
to see one sitting on a log in the rain."

"He's a very good king," said Stedman, confidentially; "and though you
mightn't think it to look at him, he's a terrible stickler for
etiquette and form. After supper he'll give you an audience; and if
you have any tobacco, you had better give him some as a present, and
you'd better say it's from the President: he doesn't like to take
presents from common people, he's so proud. The only reason he borrows
mine is because he thinks I'm the President's son."

"What makes him think that?" demanded the consul, with some shortness.
Young Mr. Stedman looked nervously a