way, and we'd find the river again, as it wound round, and we could travel faster out of the bush.

"And see what's coming," Sanders added. So we started across the open ground. The sun was going down, and it was getting cooler. So we ran for short spells and walked in between till we got our breath. We kept on after dark, as long as we could crawl. It was wonderful how Sanders stuck to it, wounded as he was.

"It's no use," I told him at last. "All the little brown devils in the world couldn't drive me any farther," and I tumbled down on the ground, and there I lay. I dare say you think you know what it feels to be dead beat; but you don't. Anyone might have clubbed me, and I wouldn't have lifted an arm.

"I'll watch," he said. "We'll take turns." But he must have gone to sleep, too, unawares. For when I roused he was snoring, and the sun was coming up, just a bit of red rim, and the air felt clean and new, as if things were wiped out and you started fair.

"Wake up, mate,” I called. "It's time we moved on. There's no signs of them."

He rubbed his eyes and half sat up; and then stopped and looked at his coat sleeve that was pulled nearly off his arm-the sound one. They'd fastened it to the ground with one of the tiny arrows that they use in their blowpipes, poisoned at the end; as if they'd say, "We can kill you any time we like. Think of that!" He thought of it right He thought of it right enough, and sat still.

"We'll be getting on," I said in a minute; and we went on. You'd have laughed to see us trying to run with our stiff legs. We were done before we started, but it's strange how you can keep on, when it's for your life!

We came to the woods again about an hour after sunrise. It was cooler there, but we couldn't get along so fast, and didn't find anything to eat, or any water, for hours. Then we hit upon a muddy pool; and just after I shot a bird with my revolver. We made a fire with our last match, and roasted it; and when we'd finished eating we dozed off, without knowing. When we woke up we saw they'd been there, and made a joss out of a tree trunk, with a red rag stuck on with arrows, and a berry necklace on top.

Sanders got up and kicked it, and shouted, as if he'd gone mad, and shook his fist at the bushes, and swore and raved at them to come out in the open, like men, and he'd fight the

whole tribe of them; but there was never a sound to answer; and we ran and walked and walked and ran, and tore our way through the bramble bushes, and panted and groaned, and when the evening came on we still stumbled along, always looking round. "Mate," I said, presently, "I shall drop." "Come on till you do," he gasped. "I can't go any farther," I told him after an hour. "They can't catch us now.”

"They can," he declared. "Come on!" We went on, and at last we reached a hill, with a single tree on top, a fan-shaped palm. Lord! How I hate the sight of them! We stopped there, and settled to sleep and watch in turn. I took first watch, and kept rubbing my eyes, and wondering if I'd been dozing, and fancying I'd seen brown shadows moving on the hillside; brown as brown looks when there's no light to see; and once I caught myself nodding and thought I'd been falling asleep, and a noise behind the tree had roused me. I went round it, revolver in hand, but found no one. When I sat down again I knew I couldn't keep awake any longer. So I shook him.

And before he scarcely answered I was off and dreaming; and the queer thing was I didn't dream of the little brown wretches or anything horrible, but a little country lane where I came from, and Mary, that's my wife now, standing waiting for me, bending over a flower to smell it, and looking round sideways with a smile. And when I got near the smile spread over her face, like a ripple over water, and she took my hand. I was startled and then I found it was Sanders.

"They're talking," he whispered.

I sat up and listened, but heard nothing. "You've fancied it," I said. "You're a bit feverish, mate. That's what it is."

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe. It sounded as if they were up in the air. Like fairies! Funny, ain't it?" He laughed, and I thought he was going off his head.

"You have another doze," I told him. "I'll look after the fairies. If I get hold of one there won't be much wings left when I've done with him."

I walked about to keep myself awake; but I almost slept as I walked; and I kept fancying that I heard voices up in the air, just as he'd said, talking in their senseless way, urur-ur, no better than the jabber of monkeys. I couldn't make it out, and peeped round everywhere; and all of a sudden there was a

thud, and Sanders gave a scream like a woman, and wrung his hands, and held his leg.

"The-little-brown-beasts!" he cried. "The fiendish, cowardly beasts!" And he picked up a chunk of a branch that had struck him just above the ankle; and as he shouted another fell and grazed his shoulder.

"They're in the tree," I cried, and grabbed at his arm, and pulled him up, and got away from the tree. He limped away after me. His ankle wasn't broken, and he could still walk, but it hurt him; and the shock seemed to have upset him, for he kept shuddering and shivering. I was for pressing on, but he kept stopping to look round, and wouldn't go near anything that looked brown, and gripped my shoulder and pointed whenever we came near a bit of bush. So at last we settled to wait on a bare spot on the hillside till it was light. We didn't sleep any more, though my eyes were dry with wanting to, and my legs seemed to go to sleep by themselves. "Tired" isn't a big enough word for how I felt; and he muttered under his breath, and his teeth chattered, and it got on my nerves till I could almost have shrieked.

At last the sun came up, sudden because of the clouds. Then we looked at each other and gave a sort of grin. For there in front of us was the sea, not more than twenty miles away; and a bit to the left I made out the flag of the station, where a few families of half-breeds had settled as a trading port, the same that you see over there. You'll catch the moon on the yellow sand in front of it, when she gets through that cloud, about a quarter of a mile to the right of the creek, just below the five palms that stand together. Strange how I hate to look at a palm now. "The sea, mate," I said. "The sea!" "And plenty of it," he said, with a queer chuckle. "Enough to drown the whole tribe of them. Good old sea!"

And we stood and looked at it, and rubbed our hands, and laughed.

There wasn't so much to laugh about, if you reckoned it up. We'd twenty miles to go, with the brown men after us: and our legs trembled under us, and there wasn't strength enough in our necks to hold our heads straight. And if we got there the half-breeds at the station would give us up more likely than not, if there wasn't a vessel in. There might be a schooner in that afternoon, or it mightn't be for a fortnight, for we'd lost count of the days. Still it was a chance; and

if we could snatch a canoe, and something to eat and drink, we could cruise about round the coast till a vessel came, we thought. And we planned out things and talked as if we were there already, and hummed cheerfully

as we went on.

"The sea, mate!" I kept saying. "The sea!"

"And I'd like to drown all them little brown devils in it!" he answered every time. "Did he do anything to you?"

He didn't answer, but shoved the bushes aside, and pushed into the wood that we'd reached again. A little brown man slipped from almost under our feet into the bush and out of sight; and we left off grinning and looked at each other. Sanders grew white in the face, and shook as if he might fall. He stopped dead.

"Come on, mate," I said. "They can't do more than kill us."

But he shook his head.

"They can," he said, with a hiss in his voice. "You don't know them."

"I jolly soon shall," I said, "if we stop here! It's no use giving in. Push on and never mind about them."

"I wouldn't mind if they'd come out and fight us like men," he said, wiping his forehead. "It's this dodging and hiding and coming on you unawares that gets over me. They've followed us all this way, and we've hardly seen them."

us.

"Don't you believe it," I told him. "We've got miles ahead of the chaps that followed That was just an odd chap of them that happened to be about here, and doesn't know anything about—about it. There's nothing to fear."

And he brightened up and nodded.

"Yes, yes," he said. "You're right. There's nothing to fear."

Suddenly a little puff arrow stuck in a tree beside us, and quivered there, like a butterfly with dirty wings. And another; and another; and another; and we stood gaping at them, till at last I pulled myself together.

"Seems that they can't aim straight anyhow," I remarked, peeping round a bush, with my revolver ready.

"Aim straight!" cried Sanders, with an oath. "They're aiming to miss. They can hit us when they like; just when they like. They want to frighten the pluck out of us till we drop, and they can take us alive, and torture us. The brutes! The devilish brutes."

His teeth chattered, and my blood seemed to turn cold. I thought I saw a brown face peering round a bush, and fired; and then Sanders fired shot after shot, and so did I. Suddenly he caught my arm.

Merry Mary, it was. We knew her. Once we got to her we were safe; and once they saw the little brown brutes on our trail, they'd run to us! We made funny sounds in our throats, and staggered forward a bit

"One," I said.
"Keep it," he advised.

"What for?" I asked.

"When they catch us," he whispered, husk

ily. "It will be the easiest way."

And then I fairly lost my nerve. "Run!" I shouted. "Run!" We must have run for hours. My eyes were nearly blind, and my breath came like an engine, and my tongue lolled out. My feet burned like a fire, and my mouth was worse, and my knees knocked together. The puff arrows kept whizzing by us, and some stuck through our matted hair; and at last I dropped down on the ground.

"They can kill me," I said. "I won't get up again." And Sanders laughed a choky laugh, and sat down too; but after a few minutes we got up and went on again till he dropped. And so we kept on, dropping and getting up again.

Once we thought they had gone, and half dozed; and when we woke a couple of dozen short, brown men, with long, hanging arms like monkeys, slid away into the bush. Sanders fired at them.

"My last shot!" he screamed; "and I didn't even hit him! Run! Run!"

Well, it was more like tottering, so far as I remember. I don't let myself remember, more than I can help. We caught glimpses of the sea through the trees now and then, getting nearer and nearer. That was what kept us going on. Sometimes I dream about it now, and get up and look out of the porthole, when I wake in a sweat, to make sure that the sea's there.

Well, we went on till it was about three o'clock, as near as I could judge; and then we came out of the wood, on the side of a hill, leading to the shore. It seemed about a mile and a half. And there was the station, and there was the flag, and there was the bay, bright blue with little tips of white on the tops of the waves; and there was an English gunboat far out; and there was a trading schooner standing in for the shore. Fifteen men she carried-Englishmen! None of your cursed half-breed about them.

The

"Run!" Sanders said. "Run!" said I.

It was real running now. Our legs seemed to be legs again; and we looked round and saw that none of the little savages was following us into the open; and we made a noise like a faint cheer.

"We're saved, mate," I cried. "We're saved. Hooray!"

"Hooray!" he said after me. They were the funniest cheers that ever you heard, broken in bits because we hadn't breath.

The flag ran down the schooner's mast, and we could see them getting the anchor ready, and standing by to haul in the sails, and we waved our hands to them as we ran, though we knew they weren't likely to see us, on account of the high grass that ran beside the path, and a sort of hedge that we could barely see over. When we got by the hedge, there was a great clump of trees in front of us; and in front of the trees there was an astonishing field of flowers. Such a sight of flowers and such wonderful sizes and colors that they seemed to strike us all of a heap, and we actually stood still for a moment to look at them. I've been half a mind to go up and look at them since, but I never had the heart to. The half-breeds grow them.

We didn't know that then, but supposed they grew wild, and stared at them with our mouths open. All sorts they were, and all colors. Big white lilies, like bells with yellow clappers. Balls as big as your fist like red and yellow roses. Bushes as tall as a man, covered with marigolds as close as if they were stuck on side by side. Purple flowers like chrysanthemums as large as your head. And behind them all was a little bit of green grass field studded with yellow flowers, as might be big buttercups; and when I looked at that a lump came up in my throat.

"It puts me in mind of home, mate!" I said. "Home!"

And he gave a big sob.

"Home," he said. "Run, mate! Run!"

And we ran into the clump; and before our eyes were used to the darkness, a little brown man hung round each of our legs and brought

us down; and another little brown man had us by each arm. It was no use struggling. Sanders bit one of those that held him; but they were too quick for me; and when we tried to shout they rammed some rags in our mouths till we nearly choked.

They dealt with him first; took him and tied him to a tree-one of those infernal fantopped palms-where he could see the sea and the field of flowers; and then- Burn me if I tell you the rest!

They didn't kill him outright. I judged he might die in an hour, if he was lucky, seeing that he was weak to start with. They left him, and a pudgy little beast, that had three necklaces round his dirty neck, and seemed to be a sort of chief, came and talked to me. He was flatter nosed and worse looking and smaller than the rest, and smelt worse; and he waved his hands as he talked, and lifted them up to the skies, as if he was appealing to his gods. His gods! Those Who Let People Alone! It made me laugh out loud to think of it; and when I started laughing it didn't seem as if I could leave off, till he pointed to Sanders. Then I stopped.

It was all "ur-ur-ur" that he said, and I didn't understand it; but last of all he took my revolver from my belt. He signed to them to let me go, and pointed to Sanders. Then he put the revolver in my hand. I was cramped with being held so long, and could hardly stand. My head felt silly; and I stood holding the revolver limply in my hand, trying to figure out things; and the chief folded his arms and looked at me. So did the rest of them-like brown statues-dirty brown. And Sanders just lifted his head for a moment and glanced at me, and gave a moan.

"Now here am I," I said to myself, "with my revolver in my hand, and one shot in it. I can put Sanders out of his misery, and then be served like him; or I can shoot the flatnosed chief, and be served worse; or I can use it on myself and get out of it all, except just dying; and I've got to do that anyhow. Who's to have the bullet? Sanders, or the flat-nosed man, or me?"

I looked first at one and then at the other. Sanders lifted his head again and muttered. I didn't know his voice.

"I'm nearly through," he said; "and you can't get away. Shoot yourself, old man."

Well, he did what he did, and God knows why he did it. I reckon he'll think he paid for it. Anyhow it was for him to pay, not me. So I reckoned I was entitled to the shot. But he'd been a decent mate to me. I used it for him. I saved him an hour of it.

When I'd done it I turned to the chief and laughed. Oh! It sounds funny to you, I dare say, but that's what I did. And I wasn't feeling like laughing either, and I meant to throttle the first one that laid hands on me.

But they didn't. The chief made a sign, and said ur-ur-ur; and one of them gave me a gourd of water, and I drank it. I thought it was to make me fresh for the torture; but I had to drink it all the same when I saw it.

However, I was wrong. The funny little chief held up his hands and talked again to the skies; ur-ur-ur. And then he talked to his men, and seemed to say ur-ur-ur just the same. They stood back in two lines, and he pointed to me to go; and I went. I take it that they hadn't been sure of my motive in shooting the first brown man; but now they were satisfied that it was only to put him out of his misery, as they do themselves with their wounded. So they let me go. They have an idea of justice, as I said. I'd like to burn the lot of them!

I tottered down the path, feeling like an old man. The chaps from the schooner had just come ashore; and a gig from the gunboat. It had looked in to inquire how the natives were behaving. A wonderful dry nurse is England, when you come to think of it. The lieutenant in charge was a smiling, fair-haired young chap, very spruce in his white duck, and innocent and soft looking, but the sort that isn't so innocent as their looks. So I was careful with him. He asked me about the natives; and I told him they'd behaved all right-to me. That's all.

The first mate laughed mirthlessly and lit a cigar.

"I never care to look at a palm since," he remarked. "You'll understand."

"And you didn't tell him what the little brown men did to Sanders?" I observed.

The first mate drew his lips in and out, and shook his head.

"No," he stated. "They've an idea of justice, as I said; and so have I!"

I knew Coler when first he came to New York. He had the wild dash and vim of the graduate of a country college; there was nothing subdued or trained about him. "Slasher and Crasher" was what we called him then. Poor fellow, how little he slashed and crashed after a few years! I remember his talking about the Great Refusal about four times a week, whenever the conversation turned upon money versus art; until I made the refusal myself, you know, and then I never heard him mention it again. A very considerate fellow, in his rough way, Coler was, although I shouldn't have minded.

We saw a good deal of each other for quite a while. Each of us had a little income, and used it as a base of supplies while hunting for more dollars; we wrote in adjoining rooms in the "Benedict." Ever read the style of effusion I turned out? I had all my printed stories bound together; they stand there in the bookcase beside my novel. Somewhat bloodand-thundery; if a fellow hasn't insight, you know, he has to depend on imagination. I remember Coler was very encouraging about my novel; he said it showed promise, but the poor thing never paid me two hundred dollars.

Coler and I had different tastes, and I've often wondered just why it was that, first and

last, I saw more of him-the real Coler, I mean-than anyone else did, even his own brother. I never was really fond of him until long after I came to pity him, and yet we were often together, partly because of the accident of our rooming so near each other, and partly because he seemed to like me. Not that he ever read me his manuscripts, or that he explained his theories until it came to the subject of the Great Refusal. The selling of a soul always exasperated him and you know, when you're young, how many men of talent you see giving up art for money. If it wasn't for the pursuit of money the millennium would come in any day.

At that time Coler was writing those early things of his, which were fairly successful. For all his rough-and-ready characteristics, he was a very careful workman, too careful; but he still had youth, and that was what carried him then. For a bachelor, he was making a nice little income, and then he wrote his first novel, "One Way of Life," which brought him in six thousand dollars in six months. six months. On that he got engaged. I did the same just after.

It was this way with me. Ethel and I had been waiting some time for her father's consent: we couldn't marry without it. At last he gave in, on condition I'd stop trying to earn a living by writing and take a position with him. The old fellow was pretty sensible; I never could have supported Ethel as she'd been used to; and besides, what did my stories amount to, anyway? Her father's offer meant a partnership very soon; he said he'd boost me right up, and he did. For of course I took the job he offered.

When I told Coler of it I took care to be alone with him, in case he mentioned the Great Refusal. You see, in the last few