le had collected
on the islets there--and leaning at arm's-length upon his paddle, he
pointed with a brown skinny hand over the sea. Jim listened for a time
without looking up, and at last told him gently to wait. He would hear
him by-and-by. They withdrew obediently to some little distance, and sat
on their heels, with their paddles lying before them on the sand; the
silvery gleams in their eyes followed our movements patiently; and the
immensity of the outspread sea, the stillness of the coast, passing
north and south beyond the limits of my vision, made up one colossal
Presence watching us four dwarfs isolated on a strip of glistening sand.

'"The trouble is," remarked Jim moodily, "that for generations these
beggars of fishermen in that village there had been considered as the
Rajah's personal slaves--and the old rip can't get it into his head that
. . ."

'He paused. "That you have changed all that," I said.

'"Yes I've changed all that," he muttered in a gloomy voice.

'"You have had your opportunity," I pursued.

'"Have I?" he said. "Well, yes. I suppose so. Yes. I have got back my
confidence in myself--a good name--yet sometimes I wish . . . No! I
shall hold what I've got. Can't expect anything more." He flung his arm
out towards the sea. "Not out there anyhow." He stamped his foot upon
the sand. "This is my limit, because nothing less will do."

'We continued pacing the beach. "Yes, I've changed all that," he went
on, with a sidelong glance at the two patient squatting fishermen; "but
only try to think what it would be if I went away. Jove! can't you see
it? Hell loose. No! To-morrow I shall go and take my chance of drinking
that silly old Tunku Allang's coffee, and I shall make no end of fuss
over these rotten turtles' eggs. No. I can't say--enough. Never. I must
go on, go on for ever holding up my end, to feel sure that nothing can
touch me. I must stick to their belief in me to feel safe and to--to"
. . . He cast about for a word, seemed to look for it on the sea . . .
"to keep in touch with" . . . His voice sank suddenly to a murmur . . .
"with those whom, perhaps, I shall never see any more. With--with--you,
for instance."

'I was profoundly humbled by his words. "For God's sake," I said, "don't
set me up, my dear fellow; just look to yourself." I felt a gratitude,
an affection, for that straggler whose eyes had singled me out, keeping
my place in the ranks of an insignificant multitude. How little