ffer to shake hands with him again.
You two were always such good friends."

I offered my hand to the black chief, but he put his own behind him and
pointed to the boat, as much, it seemed to me, as to say, "There, you've
got all you want now; go away."

My uncle tried with no better success, and as the natives were gathering
about us we reluctantly got in where the beautiful canoe lay heaving on
the sands as the great rollers came in.

Everything was in readiness, our boxes snugly stowed, our provisions
ready, our guns in their waterproof cases, the sail lay ready for
hoisting, and all that was wanted now was to wait until a good wave came
in and then shove off and ride out on it as it retired.

The canoe was so large that I wondered whether we should be able to
manage it ourselves; but I had full confidence in my uncle's skill, and
it seemed to me that my help now ought to be of some use. So I seized
the pole that lay ready, and prepared to use it; but Mr Ebony, as we
had somehow got into the habit of calling him now, said something to the
little crowd on the sands, when, as he took the lead, eight or nine ran
into the water, seized the boat by the sides, and ran her right out
forty or fifty yards to where the water was up to their breasts, when,
giving us a final thrust, away we went upon the top of a roller, my
uncle hoisting the sail at the right moment, and we glided on.

I had seized a great paddle used for steering and taken care to keep the
boat's head right, laughing to myself the while, and wondering what my
uncle would say when he turned round, for he was hauling up the sail and
too busy to notice anything but his work.

When at last he did turn round, just as we had glided lightly a good
five hundred yards from the shore, he cried out: "Hallo!"

For there, just in front of me, squatting down upon his heels and with
all his white teeth displayed, was Mr Ebony, apparently quite at home,
and without the slightest intention of going back.

"Why, what does this mean?" said my uncle, and he pointed to the shore.

But Mr Ebony had no intention of going, and if we had not learned much
of his language, he had picked up something of ours, for he began to
shout, "No, no, no, no, no," till he was out of breath, and laying
himself down he took tight hold of one of the thwarts of the canoe, as
if to say that he meant to cling to that if we tried to throw him over.

"This is why he wouldn't shake hands, Nat," s