Doctor Kingsmead the same."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

Poor Bob Bostock's head had seemed as much swollen mentally as it had
been externally, but these words on the part of Carey gave a fillip to
his power of thinking, and he stared at the lad with his mouth open and,
instead of being stupefied and weak, he grew rapidly stronger.

"My eyes and limbs, Master Carey!" he gasped; "you don't mean to go and
say such a thing as that, do you?"

"I do, Bob, but look here," he went on, keeping to a whisper; "try and
be cool and take it all as a matter of course. Everything may depend
upon our taking our troubles calmly. We must not let the black fellows
think we are upset over it."

"I see, sir. Yes, that's right. You mean if we show the white feather
these fellows'll come and pluck us."

"Something of the kind, Bob. There, go on bathing your head and keep
friendly with Black Jack."

"Right, sir. I see. Chuck dust in their eyes?"

"Exactly."

"Here goes, then, sir, and I'll begin with water and make out that I
think it all a big lark."

The old sailor knelt down before the bucket and began to bathe his
forehead and the tremendous swelling, while Black Jackum looked on
anxiously. The next minute Bostock raised his head, saw that the second
black was looking at him solemnly, and he made a hideous grimace at
him--an extremely hideous grimace, for his swollen and disfigured
forehead helped to make it so.

The black stared, with the opalescent whites of his eyes forming rings
around his irides. Then, grasping the fact that it was done as a joke,
he burst into a loud guffaw, slapped his thighs and cried, "Bunyip--
bunyip!" bounding away the next moment, for Bostock sent a handful of
water splashing all over his face.

Black Jackum roared at this, and Bostock made a feint of splashing him,
to the other blacks' great delight.

Jackum dodged and ducked his head, Bostock keeping up the threatening
till Jackum protested.

"No--no--no," he cried. "Let feel um," and he stretched out his hands.

"All right," cried Bostock, ceasing his watery threats; "feel then."

"Feel cookie," said Jackum, solemnly. "Cookie brokum?"

The black's fingers were applied with delicate touch to the old sailor's
head.

"Gently, old soot-box," said Bostock, quietly submitting; "it feels as
if it was red-hot."

"No brokum," said Jackum, turning sharply to Carey and catching at the
boy's wrist. "Feelum."

Carey felt the injured h