ittle Morlot had
spoken in such gallant hiccoughs.

The lady was not upon her veranda, nor yet in her poultry-yard, as I
paced past her dwelling. I had got nearly by, when I heard myself
addressed from the unglazed window.

"Monsieur!"

I strolled back, wondering if at last I should be invited to hear the
gramophone--her chiefest treasure. The mass of hair spread out of the
crude opening in the bamboo wall, for all the world like Rapunzel's. I
faced a great curtain of black. Then hands appeared and made a rift in
it, and a face showed in the loose black frame.

"Monsieur, what is the German for 'cochon'?"

My German is scanty, and I reflected. "'Schweinhund' will do, I think,"
I answered after consideration.

"A thousand thanks." The face disappeared, and the hair was pulled after
it.

I waited. I could hear nothing distinctly, but in a moment Schneider
came running quickly and stiffly down the creaky ladder from the door.
He saw me--of that I am sure--but I did not blame him for not greeting
one who had doubtless been giving aid and comfort to the enemy. I
squatted on the low railing of French Eva's compound, but she herself
was not forthcoming. After ten minutes I heard a commotion in the
poultry yard, and found her at the back among her chickens. Her hair was
piled up into an amazing structure: it looked as if some one had placed
the great pyramid on top of the sphinx.

"Do you need my further services?"

She smiled. "Not in the least. But I like to speak to animals, when
possible, in their own language. It saves time." By way of illustration,
she clucked to a group of hens. She turned her back to me, and I was
dismissed from her barefoot presence.

Stires was my logical goal after that, and I found him busy with the
second mate of a tramp just in from Papua and bound for the Carolines.
After the man had gone, I informed Stires of the episode. For a man who
had damned Schneider up and down for making presents to a lady, Stires
reacted disappointingly.

"He got his, eh?" was all he said.

"Evidently. You don't seem to be much affected."

"So long as she's shipped him, that's all right," he drawled.

"I can't make out what your interest in the matter is," I suggested.

"Sure you can't," Stires began to whistle creakily, and took up some
nameless object to repair.

"How long is Schneider staying round these parts?"

"Not long, I guess. I heard he was leaving on the Sydney packet next
week."

"So