ller for help--Scraggsy, please don't holler.
Die game."

Captain Scraggs turned his terrified glance on Mr. Gibney's
tortured face. Scraggs was certainly a coward at heart, but
there was something in Mr. Gibney's unselfishness that touched a
spot in his hard nature--a something he never knew he possessed.
He bowed his head and two big tears stole down his weatherbeaten
face.

"God bless you, Gib, my _dear_ boy," he said brokenly. "You're a
man."

At this juncture the king came up and thoughtfully felt of Captain
Scraggs in the short ribs, while Tabu-Tabu calculated the precise
amount of luscious tissue on Mr. Gibney's well-upholstered frame.

"Bimeby we eat white man," said Tabu-Tabu cheerfully.

"If you eat me, you bloody-handed beggar," snapped Captain
Scraggs, "I'll pizen you. I've chawed tobacco all my life, and my
meat's as bitter as wormwood."

It was too funny to hear Scraggs jesting with death. Mr. Gibney
forgot his own mental agony and roared with laughter in
Tabu-Tabu's face. The cannibal stood off a few feet and looked
searchingly in the commodore's eyes. He was not used to the brand
of white man who could laugh under such circumstances, and he
suspected treachery of some kind. He hurried over to join the
king and the two held a hurried conversation. As a result of
their conference, a huge savage was called over and given some
instructions. Tabu-Tabu handed him a war club and Mr. Gibney,
rightly conjecturing that this was the official executioner,
bowed his head and waited for the blow.

It came sooner than he expected. The earth seemed to rise up and
smite Adelbert P. Gibney across the face. There was a roar, as of
an explosion in his ears, and he fell forward on his face. He
had a confused notion that when he fell the post came with him.

For nearly a minute he lay there, semi-conscious, and then
something warm, dripping across his face, roused him. He moved,
and found that his feet were free, though his hands were still
bound to the post, which lay extended along his back. He rolled
over and glanced up. Captain Scraggs was shrieking. By degrees
the bells quit ringing in the commodore's ears, and this is what
he heard Captain Scraggs yelling:

"Oh, you McGuffey. Oh, you bully Irish terrier. Soak it to 'em,
Mac. Kill the beggars. You've got a dozen of 'em already. Plug
away, you good old hunk of Irish bacon."

Mr. Gibney was now himself once more. He struggled to his feet,
and as he did, som