er announced his intention of
inspecting the stores, and made his prisoners march before him and show
him all they could; it was hot and stifling between-decks, and he was
soon tired and ordered all on deck, where he had a long look round, and
at last caught sight of something on shore.

"Hullo, here!" he cried, turning his fists into a binocular glass
without lenses; "who's been meddling with my pearl-oyster grounds?"

The doctor, being referred to in this question, turned to the man and
laughed bitterly.

"Your pearl-oyster grounds!" he said, in a tone full of the contempt he
felt.

The man thrust his unpleasant-looking face close to the doctor's.

"Yes," he said, with an ugly smile; "mine. Didn't I tell you before
that all the reefs and islands here, and all that's on them or comes
ashore on them's mine? Someone's been meddling over yonder and
collecting and stacking shells; someone's been sinking tubs and rotting
the oysters to get my pearls. It's been done by your orders, eh?"

"Yes," said the doctor, quietly; "I suppose I am to blame for it."

"Ho! Well, I suppose you did it for me, so I won't complain. Here,
bring out the box."

"What box?" said the doctor.

"What box?" roared the man, fiercely; "why, the box o' pearls you've got
put away. Now don't you put me out, young fellow, because when I'm put
out I'm ugly. Ask Black Jack what I can do when I'm ugly. He can
understand and talk English enough to tell you."

"I tell you this," began the doctor, but he was stopped by a growl that
might have emanated from some savage beast.

"You wait till I've done. Coo-ee!"

"Coo-ee!" came in answer, and Black Jack rushed forward in a series of
bounds, nulla-nulla in one hand, boomerang in the other.

"Here, Jack, what do I do when I'm ugly?"

"Mumkull--killa fellar," said the black, grinning as if it were a fine
joke. "Mumkull now?" he continued, with his eyes beginning to look
wild, as he turned them questioningly on one after the other.

"Not yet. Get out."

The black darted away again as quickly as he had come.

"That chap's a child o' nature, young fellow," said the beachcomber,
scowling; "so I say to you, don't you try to gammon me. Fetch out that
box."

"How can he," cried Carey, boldly, "when he hasn't got one?"

"What?" roared the man, clapping his hand upon his revolver, and turning
fiercely upon the boy. "What's that?"

"You heard what I said," cried Carey, in no way daunted.