ith the skipper. He
called me a half-bred Maori nigger, an' so----"

"And so you had a fight?"

"Yes, sir, we had a fight. But he couldn't stand up to me for more than
a couple of rounds; an' sang out for the mate an' carpenter to come and
help him, an' the three of 'em went for me: They got me down at last,
and then the mate gave me a slash across the face with his knife. So,
as I didn't want to get killed, I jumped overboard and swam ashore. I've
been hiding in the village since."

Palmer looked steadily into the man's immovable face, and then said--

"You want a stitch or two put in that cut. Come inside and I'll do it
for you. Your skipper was here at daylight this morning looking for you.
He told me quite a different story; said that you gave him 'lip' and
then struck him."

The half-caste laughed quietly. "He lied, sir. He's a regular bully, and
he and the mate knock the men about something terrible. But he made a
mistake when he started on me and called me a nigger. And if he tries to
bring me aboard of that floating hell again I'll kill him, as sure as my
name is Frank Porter."

The trader's face lightened up. "Are you Frank Porter, the man who saved
the _Marion Renny_ from being cut-off in the Solomon Islands?"

"Yes," answered the half-caste, "I am the man."

Palmer extended his hand. "You're welcome to my house, Frank Porter. And
there's no fear of the captain coming ashore again to look for you. Now
come inside, and let me dress that ugly slash for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer. But I did not come to you for that. I came
to see if you can give me a berth of some sort on your station. I'm a
pretty handy man at almost anything."

The trader thought a moment; then he looked up quickly. "I cannot give
you anything to do on the station--there is nothing _to_ do. But I will
give you five hundred dollars and a home in my house if you will help me
to do one thing."

"What is that?"

"Put a bullet into a man here who has murdered thirty people within ten
years. I cannot do it alone, I have tried and failed, and these people
cannot help me. Come inside, and I'll tell you all about it."

The half-caste followed Palmer into his sitting-room, and the trader,
getting needles and silk thread from his wife, stitched up the wound in
the man's face. Then he gave him a glass of whiskey, and as they smoked
their pipes, told him the story of Jinaban, the Outlaw.

*****

Two years before, when Palmer first land