demanded.

The young man looked back at his prisoner and remembered.

"Why, that's the pigeon-fancier," he said. "I guess the officers can
take care of him."

Peter Winn gripped his son's hand in grim silence, and fondled the
pigeon which his son had passed to him. Again he fondled the pretty
creature. Then he spoke.

"Exhibit A, for the People," he said.

BUNCHES OF KNUCKLES

ARRANGEMENTS quite extensive had been made for the celebration of
Christmas on the yacht Samoset. Not having been in any civilized port
for months, the stock of provisions boasted few delicacies; yet Minnie
Duncan had managed to devise real feasts for cabin and forecastle.

"Listen, Boyd," she told her husband. "Here are the menus. For the cabin,
raw bonita native style, turtle soup, omelette a la Samoset--"

"What the dickens?" Boyd Duncan interrupted.

"Well, if you must know, I found a tin of mushrooms and a package of
egg-powder which had fallen down behind the locker, and there are other
things as well that will go into it. But don't interrupt. Boiled yam,
fried taro, alligator pear salad--there, you've got me all mixed, Then
I found a last delectable half-pound of dried squid. There will be baked
beans Mexican, if I can hammer it into Toyama's head; also, baked papaia
with Marquesan honey, and, lastly, a wonderful pie the secret of which
Toyama refuses to divulge."

"I wonder if it is possible to concoct a punch or a cocktail out of
trade rum?" Duncan muttered gloomily.

"Oh! I forgot! Come with me."

His wife caught his hand and led him through the small connecting door
to her tiny stateroom. Still holding his hand, she fished in the depths
of a hat-locker and brought forth a pint bottle of champagne.

"The dinner is complete!" he cried.

"Wait."

She fished again, and was rewarded with a silver-mounted whisky flask.
She held it to the light of a port-hole, and the liquor showed a quarter
of the distance from the bottom.

"I've been saving it for weeks," she explained. "And there's enough for
you and Captain Dettmar."

"Two mighty small drinks," Duncan complained.

"There would have been more, but I gave a drink to Lorenzo when he was
sick."

Duncan growled, "Might have given him rum," facetiously.

"The nasty stuff! For a sick man? Don't be greedy, Boyd. And I'm glad
there isn't any more, for Captain Dettmar's sake. Drinking always makes
him irritable. And now for the men's dinner. Soda crackers, sweet cake