er I--'

"When him and the other two got through convincing Rosy that he
was ungrateful, they took that bottle into the cabin and begun
experimenting. Julius had lived a few months in Maine, which is a
prohibition State, and so he knew how to make alcohol 'splits'--one-half
wet fire and the rest water. They 'split' for five days. Then the
alcohol was all out and the Emily was all in, being stove up on a coral
reef two mile off shore of a little island that nobody'd ever seen
afore.

"They got into the boat--the four white men and the Kanaka--histed the
sail, and headed for the beach. They landed all right and was welcomed
by a reception committee of fifteen husky cannibals with spears, dressed
mainly in bone necklaces and sunshine. The committee was glad to see
'em, and showed it, particular to Teunis, who was fat. Rosy, being
principally framework by this time, wa'n't nigh so popular; but he
didn't seem to care.

"The darkies tied 'em up good and proper and then held a committee
meeting, arguing, so Julius cal'lated, whether to serve 'em plain or
with greens. While the rest was making up the bill of fare, a few set
to work unpacking the bags and things, Rosy's satchel among 'em. Pretty
soon there was an awful jabbering.

"'They've settled it,' says George, doleful. 'Well, there's enough of
Teunis to last 'em for one meal, if they ain't 'ogs. You're a tough old
bird, cooky; maybe you'll give 'em dyspepsy, so they won't care for the
rest of us. That's a ray of 'ope, ain't it?'

"But the cook didn't seem to get much hope out of it. He was busy
telling the skipper what he thought of him when the natives come up.
They was wildly excited, and two or three of 'em was waving square
pieces of cardboard in their hands.

"And here's where the Emily's gang had a streak of luck. The Kanaka
sailor couldn't talk much English, but it seems that his granddad, or
some of his ancestors, must have belonged to the same breed of cats as
these islanders, for he could manage to understand a little of their
lingo.

"'Picture!' says he, crazy-like with joy. 'Picture, cappy; picture!'

"When Rosy was new on board the schooner, afore George and the rest had
played with him till he was an old story, one of their games was to have
him take their photographs. He'd taken the cap'n's picture, and Julius's
and Van Doozen's. The pictures was a Rogues' Gallery that would have got
'em hung on suspicion anywhere in civilization, but these darkies