s it is," and he looked pointedly at the brace of
heavy Colt's revolvers in his visitor's belt.

A scowl darkened Larmer's face. "I'll give you a hundred dollars for
the thing," he said. "I want it, and I mean to have it" And he rose and
dashed his huge hand down upon the table.

Challoner was unarmed, but his face betrayed neither fear nor any other
emotion. He was standing with his back to the doorway of his bedroom.
A thick curtain of navy blue calico concealed the interior of this room
from the view of any one in the living room, and Larmer had seen no one
but the trader about.

For some few seconds there was silence; the beachcomber, with his
clenched fist still on the table, was trying to discover whether the man
before him was intimidated. Challoner stood unmoved.

"Yes," began Larmer again, "I want that cannon. Sru, the chief of Kiti,
an' me is going on a little war-party again. But I'll pay you for it."

"And I tell you that I won't sell it. Least of all to a man like you,
who would use it for murder."

The beachcomber's hand went to his belt--and stayed there, as the trader
stepped aside from the doorway and he saw a rifle pointed at his heart.
It was held by the trader's wife.

"Put up your hands," said Challoner, with a contemptuous laugh. "And
now listen to me. I want no quarrel with you--don't force one on me. Now
clear out."

Without a word the baffled man turned away. But the look of savage
hatred that gleamed in his fierce eyes told Challoner that he had made
a dangerous enemy. And only a few days passed before he heard from the
natives that Larmer said he would have his revenge--and the brass gun as
well--before many months were over.

But the trader, though apparently taking no heed, was yet watchful. His
influence with the natives of the Jakoits district was great, for they
both liked and trusted him as a just and honourable man, and he knew
that they would rally round him if Larmer attempted either to carry off
the gun or do harm to him.

For some months matters went on at Jakoits very quietly, and the last of
the whaling fleet having sailed, Challoner and Dawson went about their
usual work again, such as trading along the coast in their whaleboats
and storing their cocoanut oil in readiness for the _Mocassin_, the
trading ship which visited them once a year, and was now due.

Although living only a few miles apart from each other, the two did not
very often meet, but Challoner was one