sult that has already been narrated.

"Between ourselves," said MacAndrew, "our friend yonder is scarcely the
sort of man to travel with. He hasn't the heart of a louse, and is as
suspicious as a rat."

Browne said nothing; he was thinking of Katherine, and what her
feelings would be, when he should present this man to her as the father
she had so long revered. He began to think that it would have been
better, not only for the man himself, but for all parties concerned, if
they had left him to meet his fate on the island.

CHAPTER XXVI

"Now, what about the yacht?" inquired MacAndrew. "We mustn't be caught
here. It is impossible to say how soon the troops may be after us.
There is a guard-house in Aniwa Bay; and they are certain to know
before long, that a man has escaped from Dui and is heading this way."

"The yacht will be within signalling distance of this hut to-night at
midnight," said Browne. "And you can see for yourself there are some
rockets in that corner which I can fire. Then, within half an hour,
she will send a boat ashore."

"Good," he remarked in a tone of approval. "Very good. You are the
sort of man I like to do business with. For my part, I shall not be
sorry to get out of this." He pointed to his disguise.

"I dare say you will not," answered Browne. "You have succeeded
wonderfully well. I cannot tell you how much obliged I am to you."

"I am equally obliged to you," said MacAndrew, "so we can cry quits. I
flatter myself that, all things considered, it has been a pretty good
escape; but I could tell you of one or two which have been better. We
mustn't shout too soon, however; we are not out of the wood yet." As
he spoke he mixed himself another glass of grog and lit a cigar, the
smoke of which he puffed through his nose with the enjoyment of a man,
to whom such a luxury had been forbidden for some time past. Browne
followed his example, and the two men smoked in silence, while the
ex-Nihilist snored on the bed in the corner. Hour after hour they
talked on. As Browne had suspected, MacAndrew proved the most
interesting companion in the world. His life had been one long series
of hairbreadth escapes; he had fought both for civilization and against
it; had sold his services to native sultans and rajahs, had penetrated
into the most dangerous places, and had met the most extraordinary
people. Strange to relate, with it all, he had still preserved the air
of a gentleman