hort if anything. It
doesn't matter if the bullets strike the sea first."

He placed the weapon in readiness for her and commenced operations
himself before Iris could reach his side. Soon both rifles were
pitching twenty shots a minute at the sampan. The result of their
long-range practice was not long in doubt. The Dyaks danced from seat
to seat in a state of wild excitement. One man was hurled overboard.
Then the craft lurched seaward in the strong current, and Jenks told
Iris to leave the rest to him.

Before he could empty a second magazine a fortunate bullet ripped a
plank out and the sampan filled and went down, amidst a shrill yell of
execration from the back of the cliff. The two Dyaks yet living
endeavored to swim ashore, half a mile through shark-invested reefs.
The sailor did not even trouble about them. After a few frantic
struggles each doomed wretch flung up his arms and vanished. In the
clear atmosphere the on-lookers could see black fins cutting the
pellucid sea.

This exciting episode dispelled the gathering mists from the girl's
brain. Her eyes danced and she breathed hard. Yet something worried
her.

"I hope I didn't hit the man who fell out of the boat," she said.

"Oh," came the prompt assurance, "I took deliberate aim at that chap.
He was a most persistent scoundrel."

Iris was satisfied. Jenks thought it better to lie than to tell the
truth, for the bald facts hardly bore out his assertion. Judging from
the manner of the Dyak's involuntary plunge he had been hit by a
ricochet bullet, whilst the sailor's efforts were wholly confined to
sinking the sampan. However, let it pass. Bullet or shark, the end was
the same.

They were quieting down--the thirst fiend was again slowly salting
their veins--when something of a dirty white color fluttered into sight
from behind the base of the opposite cliff. It was rapidly withdrawn,
to reappear after an interval. Now it was held more steadily and a
brown arm became visible. As Jenks did not fire, a turbaned head popped
into sight. It was the Mahommedan.

"No shoot it," he roared. "Me English speak it."

"Don't you speak Hindustani?" shouted Jenks in Urdu of the Higher
Proficiency.

"Han, sahib!"[Footnote: Yes, sir.] was the joyful response. "Will your
honor permit his servant to come and talk with him?"

"Yes, if you come unarmed."

"And the chief, too, sahib?"

"Yes, but listen! On the first sign of treachery I shoot both of you!"

"We wi