," Daughtry concluded the performance, "if I was to order four
glasses of beer in a public-house ashore, an' if I was absent-minded an'
didn't notice the waiter 'd only brought three, Killeny Boy there 'd
raise a row instanter."

Kwaque was no longer compelled to enjoy his jews' harp on the gratings
over the fire-room, now that Michael's presence on the _Makambo_ was
known, and, in the stateroom, on stolen occasions, he made experiments of
his own with Michael. Once the jews' harp began emitting its barbaric
rhythms, Michael was helpless. He needs must open his mouth and pour
forth an unwilling, gushing howl. But, as with Jerry, it was not mere
howl. It was more akin to a mellow singing; and it was not long before
Kwaque could lead his voice up and down, in rough time and tune, within a
definite register.

Michael never liked these lessons, for, looking down upon Kwaque, he
hated in any way to be under the black's compulsion. But all this was
changed when Dag Daughtry surprised them at a singing lesson. He
resurrected the harmonica with which it was his wont, ashore in public-
houses, to while away the time between bottles. The quickest way to
start Michael singing, he discovered, was with minors; and, once started,
he would sing on and on for as long as the music played. Also, in the
absence of an instrument, Michael would sing to the prompting and
accompaniment of Steward's voice, who would begin by wailing "kow-kow"
long and sadly, and then branch out on some old song or ballad. Michael
had hated to sing with Kwaque, but he loved to do it with Steward, even
when Steward brought him on deck to perform before the laughter-shrieking
passengers.

Two serious conversations were held by the steward toward the close of
the voyage: one with Captain Duncan and one with Michael.

"It's this way, Killeny," Daughtry began, one evening, Michael's head
resting on his lord's knees as he gazed adoringly up into his lord's
face, understanding no whit of what was spoken but loving the intimacy
the sounds betokened. "I stole you for beer money, an' when I saw you
there on the beach that night I knew you'd bring ten quid anywheres. Ten
quid's a horrible lot of money. Fifty dollars in the way the Yankees
reckon it, an' a hundred Mex in China fashion.

"Now, fifty dollars gold 'd buy beer to beat the band--enough to drown me
if I fell in head first. Yet I want to ask you one question. Can you
see me takin' ten quid for