r breach-loaders and cartridge-belts,
and waving their hands gracefully to the missionary and his wife,
disappeared with Banderah and his dark-skinned companions into the dense
tropical jungle, the edge of which was within a very short distance of
the mission station.

For about an hour the Honourable Morcombe-Lycett and Mr. de Vere, with
Banderah leading the way, walked steadily onward through the jungle. Not
a word was spoken among the natives who followed close at their heels,
and Banderah himself, in answer to their frequent questions, replied
only by monosyllables..

At last they came out of the stifling heat of the thick jungle, and saw
before them a great reedy swamp, the margin fringed by a scanty growth
of cocoanut and pandanus palms. Out upon the open patches of water, here
and there showing upon the broad expanse of the swamp, they saw large
flocks of wild duck feeding and swimming about, betraying not the
slightest fear at their approach.

"By Jove, Baxter," said Mr. de Vere to his friend, "looks good enough,
doesn't it? I wonder if these blasted niggers will go in for us."

"Of course they will. But let us have a drink first. Here, you, bring
us that basket. I wonder what sort of tucker old Godliness has given us.
He's not a bad sort of an ass. His wife, too, isn't bad."

"Bah," and Mr. de Vere twirled his long, yellow moustache, "you're
always finding out something nice in the face of every woman you come
across. Wait until we get up to Japan; then you can amuse yourself with
a new type of woman. Be a bit of a change for you after the Melbourne
and Sydney peroxided-hair beauties. Here, nigger, give me that
corkscrew."

"I say, Dalton," suddenly remarked his friend, "'pon my soul I believe
we are making a mistake in going to Japan. You may be sure that we'll
have a lot of trouble awaiting us there."

"Not a bit of it Before we get there every one will have read the cable
news that we have been seen in Callao, and no one in Yokohama will
ever think of associating Mr. Herbert de Vere and the Honourable
Morcombe-Lycett--just arrived from Manila _via_ Singapore in the Spanish
mail-steamer--with--er--hum--the two gentlemen who arrived at Callao
from Tahiti, after successfully diddling the Australian financial public
of thirty thousand quid."

"But what are we going to do with the schooner at Manila?"

"Sell her, my innocent! Sell her to our esteemed friend, Mr.
Moses Steinberg, who has assisted me in