d pulled the wires: that brilliant physician whose conviction for
murder had followed so sensationally, so scandalously, upon his sweep of
academic and social honors. There would be clacking tongues in many a
Parisian salon, and white faces in some, when news should come of his
escape. Ah, yes, for example, they knew the highflyer of the band, and
they submitted--so long as he led them to victory. They submitted, while
reserving a depth of jealousy, the inevitable remnant of caste
persisting still in this democracy of stripes and shame.

By the middle of the afternoon the doctor had taken certain necessary
measures.

"Ho," said Fenayrou sleepily. "Behold our colors at the masthead. What
is that for, comrade?"

The sail had been lowered and in its place streamed the scrap of crimson
scarf that had served Dubosc as a turban.

"To help them sight us when the ship comes."

"What wisdom!" cried Fenayrou. "Always he thinks of everything, our
doctor: everything--"

He stopped with the phrase on his lips and his hand outstretched toward
the center of the platform. Here, in a damp depression among the reeds,
had lain the wicker-covered bottle of green glass in which they carried
their water. It was gone.

"Where is that flask?" he demanded. "The sun has grilled me like a
bone."

"You will have to grill some more," said Dubosc grimly. "This crew is
put on rations."

Fenayrou stared at him wide-eyed, and from the shadow of a folded mat
The Parrot thrust his purpled face. "What do you sing me there? Where is
that water?"

"I have it," said Dubosc.

They saw, in fact, that he held the flask between his knees, along with
their single packet of food in its wrapping of cocoanut husk.

"I want a drink," challenged Perroquet.

"Reflect a little. We must guard our supplies like reasonable men. One
does not know how long we may be floating here."...

Fell a silence among them, heavy and strained, in which they heard only
the squeaking of frail basketwork as their raft labored in the wash.
Slow as was their progress, they were being pushed steadily outward and
onward, and the last cliffs of New Caledonia were no longer even a
smudge in the west, but only a hazy line. And still they had seen no
moving thing upon the great round breast of the sea that gleamed in its
corselet of brass plates under a brazen sun. "So that is the way you
talk now?" began The Parrot, half choking. "You do not know how long?
But you were sure eno