lways lost her temper with them.

*****

Blackett--under the combined influences of rum, strong coffee, fever,
and woman's tears--went into a rage, and glared angrily at the chief,
Tubariga.

"You're a d-------d nice fellow," he said in English; "you get my wife
to pay a good musket for a girl, and then as soon as I am away you let
that girl run back into the bush. You're a bad friend."

Tubariga felt hurt. He prided himself on two things--his knowledge of
English and his friendship for white men. He rose to his feet, grasped
his rifle, and made for the door.

"Here, come back, Tubariga. Perhaps it isn't your fault. Let her stay
away. She's no good, anyway."

Tubariga came back. "Tell me, white man, do you want your servant to
come back?"

"Yes, d---- you!" answered Blackett, who now again was seized with that
hideous brain-whirl that in fever is simple delirium, "bring her back,
alive or dead."

The chief nodded and went out.

*****

Next morning the first fierce violence of the fever had temporarily left
him, and Blackett was lying covered up with rugs, when the grim figure
of Tubariga entered noiselessly, and stole to his side. Motioning the
trader's wife away, Tubariga's savage features relaxed with a pleased
smile.

"Well, Tubariga, how are you?" said Blackett. "'Rita tell me I damn you
too much last night, eh? Never mind, old chap, I was mad about that girl
running away. You can tell her people to keep her--and the musket too.
Rita don't want her any more. Ship come soon, then we go away.'"

Again the pleased smile spread over the chiefs face. Bending over
Blackett he placed his hideous lips, blood-red with the stains of
betel-juice, close to his face, and said with the simple pride of a
child, "_Me pinish him_."

"What?" said Blackett, with a strange feeling at his heart--"What did
you do to that girl, Tubariga?"

Sitting down with his rifle across his knees, the chief told the
conscience-stricken trader that he had followed the girl to a bush
village, where he, Tubariga, as their chief, had demanded her from her
parents. They insisted on her going back, but she whimpered and said
that the white man's wife would beat her. She sprang for the jungle,
and, ere she reached it, a bullet from the chiefs rifle struck her in
the side. And then, with a feeling of horror, Blackett listened to the
rest of the tale--the poor wretch, with her life-blood ebbing fast, was
followed up and a spear thrust throu