men--but my hands and Aunt
Jane's and Miss Higglesby-Browne's also went up with celerity. He
grinned into our astounded faces with a wolfish baring of his
yellow teeth.

"Never guessed I wasn't here jest to do the shovel work, but might
have my own little side-show to bring off, hey?" he inquired of no
one in particular. "Here, Slinker, help me truss 'em up."

The man addressed thrust his pistol in his belt and came forward,
and with his help the hands of the Scotchman, Cuthbert Vane and Mr.
Tubbs were securely tied. They were searched for arms, and the
sheath-knives which Mr. Shaw and Cuthbert carried at their belts
were taken away. The three prisoners were then ordered to seat
themselves in a row on the trunk of a prostrate palm.

The whole thing had happened in the strangest silence. Except for
a feeble moaning from Aunt Jane, like the bleating of a sheep,
which broke forth at intervals, nobody spoke or made a sound. The
three riflemen in the background, standing like images with their
weapons raised, looked like a well-trained chorus in an opera.

And indeed it was all extraordinarily like something on a stage.
Slinker, for instance. He had a prowling, sidelong fashion of
moving about, and enormous yellow mustaches like a Viking. Surely
some artist in the make-up line had invented Slinker! And the
burly fellow in the background, with the black whiskers--too bad
he'd forgotten his earrings---

But I awoke to the horrid reality of it all as Captain Magnus,
smiling his wolfish smile, turned and approached me.

"Well, boys," he remarked to his followers, who had now lowered
their weapons and were standing about at ease, "here's the little
pippin I was tellin' of. 'Fraid we give her a little scare bustin'
in so sudden, so she ain't quite so bright and smilin' as I like to
see. Its all right, girlie; you'll soon cheer up when you find out
you're go'in' to be the little queen o' this camp. Things will be
all your way now--so long as you treat me right." And the
abominable creature thrust forth a hairy paw and deliberately
chucked me under the chin.

I heard a roar from the log--and coincidently from Captain Magnus.
For with the instant response of an automaton--consciously I had
nothing at all to do with it--I had reached up and briskly boxed
the captain's ears.

Furiously he caught my wrist. "Ah, you red-headed little devil,
you'll pay for this! I ain't pretty, oh, no! I ain't a handsome
moonca