ellow Larmer is bound to hear of it."

"I am quite prepared," Challoner replied quietly, "as you know, Dawson.
Things cannot go on like this. I have never killed a man in my life, but
to kill such a brute as Larmer would be a good action."

The distance between Challoner's place and Kiti, where Larmer dwelt with
his villainous associates, was but ten miles. Yet, although Larmer had
now been living on the island for a year, Challoner had only once met
and spoken to him.

*****

During a visit which he (Challoner) had made to a little harbour called
Metalanim, he had explored some very ancient ruins there, which
were generally believed by the white uneducated traders to have been
constructed by the old buccaneers, though the most learned antiquarians
confess themselves puzzled to solve the mystery of their existence. But
that these ruins had been used as a _depot_ or refuge of some sort by
those who sailed the North Pacific more than two hundred years ago was
evident, for many traces of their occupancy by Europeans had been found
by the few white men who had visited them.

It was Challoner's fortune to discover amid the mass of tangled vines
and creepers that grew all over the walls, and even down in the curious
chambers, an old brass cannon. With the aid of some of his native
friends he succeeded in dragging it forth and conveying it in his boat
to his house, where, upon cleaning it, he found it bore the Spanish
arms over the date of its casting in Manila, in the year 1716. Much
interested in this, he refused to sell the gun to several whaleship
captains, who each wanted to buy it. He would sell it, he thought, to
better advantage by sending it to Australia or Europe.

Soon after its discovery he had set his people to work to clean and
polish it One day he saw coming towards him a man, who from his huge
figure he knew must be Larmer, the beachcomber.

"I say, boss," said the man roughly, "let's have a look at that cannon
you've found, will yar?"

"There it is," said Challoner quietly, pointing to his boat-house, but
not deigning to accompany the beachcomber and show him the weapon.

Larmer made a brief but keen inspection, and then walked into the
trader's room and, unasked, sat down.

"It's as good as new," he said. "What do you want for it?"

"I will not sell it," replied the trader coldly, eyeing the beachcomber
steadily, "at least to no one in Ponape. There is too free a display of
and use of arms here a