arp-carven cameo from its ruddy setting--struck out with the
poignant, mute intimacy that sometimes springs between craft and craft
across a widening gulf. A vivid and unforgettable face!

* * * * *

The head boatman snarled, and the ragged creatures huddled from sight
like nestlings under shadow of a hawk, while the proa swept in toward an
upper jetty.

"Couldn't ever be proved," muttered Nivin at last.

"Of course not," agreed Tunstal genially. "Who wants to prove it? And
anyway the commodity is still in transit--coming in from those coast
villages, very likely."

"What would they be doing here?"

"Oh, they probably have a local clearing house for the trade," said
Tunstal, learned in wickedness.

"Why should you think so?"

"Well, observe the commodity again. It hasn't been delivered, has it?
You'll notice it shows no stain of cinnabar--_yet_!"...

The mate's face was stony as he stood gripping the rail, but Tunstal
only smiled with the proper cynical detachment of the globe-trotter.
From a silver case he drew a fat and sophisticated cigar to adorn that
smile.

"And so much for your superior Malay. Chief, I'm surprised at you,
trying to string me. Fancy a native how you like, but don't put it on
grounds of respect--because I know 'em. I've seen 'em pretty much, and
I've no more respect for any coffee-shaded tribe using two legs instead
of four than I have for so many monkeys. Monkeys--that's what they are.
Apes!

"Play with 'em? Sure. It's all they're fit for--cute little rascals
sometimes too. But they simply have no moral sense. I take 'em as I find
'em; always ready for any of their cunning little games, you
understand. Now here's this burg. I don't expect a complete Arabian
Night's Dream, but I'm dead sure of finding a joint of some kind, and I
mean to look it over--the place where the monkeys perform for you."

"I can't help you," said Nivin, tight-lipped. "You may be right--and yet
I'd swear these people have never been spoiled. There's so few whites
come here. You see, sir, you're pretty far East--"

"Too far for a 'sailor's rest'?" laughed Tunstal. "Pshaw! Come now; are
you going to turn me loose on my own or will you steer me up to the
local tropic drink, at least?"

Nivin might have been seen to wince a trifle, as one sorely tried, and
his melancholy gaze sought the shore. Was there or was there not the
beginning of a twinkle in the gray depths? He would have