the engineer's scheme to
put up a job on Captain Scraggs, and thus relieve the tedium of
the homeward trip. Mr. Gibney instantly telegraphed his
approbation, and McGuffey continued.) "I notice also that if I
was to hunt the universe over, I couldn't find a better match for
Gib than Tabu-Tabu. And as we are all agreed that the white race
is superior to any race on earth, and it'll do us all good to see
a fine mill before we leave the country, I move you, gentlemen of
the syndicate, that we pull off a finish fight between Scraggsy
and the king, and Gib and Tabu-Tabu. I'll referee both contests
and at the conclusion of the mixup we'll leave these two
murderers marooned on the island and then----"

"Rats," snapped Captain Scraggs. "That ain't no business at all.
You shouldn't consider nothin' short of capital punishment. Why,
that's only a petty larceny form of----"

"Quit buttin' in on my prerogatives," roared McGuffey. "That
ain't the finish by no means."

"What is the finish, then?"

"Why, these two cannibals, bein' left alone on the desert island,
naturally bumps up agin the old question of the survival of the
fittest. They get scrappin' among themselves, and one eats the
other up."

"By the toe-nails of Moses," muttered Mr. Gibney in genuine
admiration, "but you _have_ got an imagination after all, Mac.
The point is well taken and the programme will go through as
outlined. Scraggs, you'll fight the king. No buckin' and
grumblin'. You'll fight the king. You're outvoted two to one, the
thing's been done regular, and you can't kick. I'll fight
Tabu-Tabu, so you see you're not gettin' any the worst of it.
We'll proceed to an island in the Friendly Group called
Tuvana-tholo. It lies right in our homeward course, and there
ain't enough grub on the confounded island to last two men a
week. And I know there ain't no water there. So, now that that
matter is all settled, we will proceed to heave the anchor and
scoot for home. Mac, tune up your engines and we'll get out of
here a-whoopin' and a-flyin'."

Ten minutes later the anchor was hanging at the hawsepipe, and
under her power the _Maggie II_ swung slowly in the lagoon,
pointed her sharp bow for the opening in the reef, and bounded
away for the open sea. Captain Scraggs jammed on all of her lower
sails and within two hours the island of Kandavu had faded
forever from their vision.

It was an eight-hundred-mile run up to Tuvana-tholo, but the
weather held good an