d was more
strict than the previous one had been. He would not allow his prisoner
even to look on at what was taking place.

Under the circumstances, there was therefore nothing for it but to fall
back on philosophic meditation and converse with Cuffy. These were
rather poor resources, however, to a man who was surrounded by a tribe
of excited savages. Despite his natural courage and coolness, Jarwin
felt, as he said himself, "raither oncomfortable."

Towards the afternoon things became a little more quiet, still no notice
was taken of our hero save that his meals were sent to him from the
Chief's hut. He wondered at this greatly, for nothing of the kind had
ever happened before, and he began to entertain vague suspicions that
such treatment might possibly be the prelude to evil of some kind
befalling him. He questioned his guard several times, but that
functionary told him that Big Chief had bidden him refuse to hold
converse with him on any subject whatever.

Being, as the reader knows, a practical, matter-of-fact sort of man, our
hero at last resigned himself to his fate, whatever that might be, and
beguiled the time by making many shrewd remarks and observations to
Cuffy. When the afternoon meal was brought to him, he heaved a deep
sigh, and apparently, with that effort flung off all his anxieties.

"Come along, Cuff," he said in a hearty voice, sitting down to dinner,
"let's grub together an' be thankful for small mercies, anyhow. Wotever
turns up, you and I shall go halves and stick by one another to the
last. Not that I have any doubts of Big Chief, Cuffy; you mustn't
suppose that; but then, you see, he ain't the only chief in the island,
and if all the rest was to go agin him, _he_ couldn't do much to save
us."

The dog of course replied in its usual facetious manner with eyes and
tail, and sat down with its ears cocked and its head turned expectantly
on one side, while the sailor removed the palm-leaf covering of the
basket which contained the provisions sent to him.

"Wot have we here, Cuffy?" he said soliloquising and looking earnestly
in; "let me see; bit of baked pig--good, Cuff, good; that's the stuff to
make us fat. Wot next? Roast fish--that's not bad, Cuff--not bad,
though hardly equal to the pig. Here we have a leaf full of plantains
and another of yams,--excellent grub that, my doggie, nothing could be
better. What's this? Cocoanut full of its own milk--the best o' drink;
`it cheer