The two lads crouched, drenched through, on the bottom of the canoe, while the Kanaka boys paddled furiously. Giant waves, true mountains of water, hung above them threatening to engulf them, but the canoe rode them with what appeared incredible buoyancy.

How long this kept up, neither Jack nor Billy ever knew. It seemed like years. Dizzy and sick from the riotous motions of the canoe as it swung wildly between sea and sky, they lost all count of everything. But the struggle was nearing its end.

Suddenly a giant comber caught up the dugout, turtled it skyward and then rushed it sickeningly down. It lifted the craft over the reef and into the open sea. For one instant it hesitated and then spun round in the trough of the sea. The next moment it was smashed into slivers against the reef while an avalanche of waters carried all its occupants down into the depths before they had time to even shout their consternation. More dead than alive, Jack shot back to the surface again. Not far from him was a projecting point of the reef. He managed somehow to crawl to it, but as he made his progress along the lower lying portions of the coral wall he was swept time and again by waves and compelled to exert all his strength to avoid being dashed off. At length, with hands cut and bleeding from the rough coral, and his clothing in shreds, he reached his refuge and was almost immediately joined there, to his great relief, by Anai and his comrade, who had rescued Billy Raynor.

But it was a miserable refuge they had found. The projecting point of rock hardly gave room for all of them, and frequently waves swept over it. At all times they were choked and blinded with spray.

“Well, this is the limit,” declared Billy. “Never again for me so far as pearl hunting is concerned.”

“Nor for me either,” said Jack. “Still, it was our fault for not watching the weather.”

“How long will the storm last, Anai, do you think?” inquired Billy, a little later.

The Kanaka boy looked at the weather with a practiced eye.

“Him get better soon,” he said. “Him not bad storm.”

“Not a bad storm!” exclaimed Jack. “Well, if this isn’t one, I never want to see one.”

“Sometimes hurricane season come blow whole village away,” Anai assured him.

“I hope this won’t be a hurricane,” said Jack.

The Kanaka shook his head.

“Bimeby him go way,” he assured them. “Look blue sky way off there now.”

Sure enough, in the far north-west, from whence the hurricane had come, a shaft of sunlight was striking the sea. Behind them they could see the storm retreating. Before long the sea had quieted down and the wind dropped almost completely.

“Well, we are better off in one respect,” said Jack, as they lay about on the reef, basking in the hot sun and drying their wet garments, “but how are we to get ashore?”

The question was answered by Anai.

“Me swim, get canoe. Soon back,” he said.

The next moment his lithe brown form was in the water. To protect himself against sharks, he carried a long knife, fashioned out of iron wood, which was slung round his neck by a lanyard. It was as tough and hard as steel, and he appeared to have no doubt that he could protect himself with it against the great fish.

Half-way to the shore a triangular fin came cruising near him and the boys dreaded to see a tragic end to their island friend. But Anai set up diabolical yells and kicked up a great splashing in the water and the sea monster sheered off again.

“Shark him big coward,” said Anai’s friend, who had remained behind with the boys. Directly Anai landed he turned and waved and then set off at a sharp run along the beach. Before they expected him he was back again with a canoe, and thus an adventure which might have had disastrous consequences ended safely. But it was a long time before the boys ever forgot it.

The next morning Jack and Billy were leaning over the rail of the Sea Gypsy, chatting and watching the sharks that swum around the ship eagerly watching for scraps from the galley. The coal was nearly all unloaded from the small, rusty tramp that had brought it, and all hands were looking forward to a resumption of the journey.

In the meantime, Mr. Jukes had been investigating ashore and learned, from some natives, that the “Tear of the Sea” had actually been bought by his brother, and that just after the purchase, the Centurion had sailed away. Not long after, ‘Bully’ Broom’s ship arrived, and the sea rover was informed of the sale. He was furious as it appeared that, in accordance with his usual practice, he intended to raid the village and take possession of the wonderful pearl by force. Mr. Jerushah Jukes’ arrival ahead of him had, of course, frustrated this plan. According to the best information he could get, the millionaire learned that “Bully” had at once put to sea in pursuit of the Centurion. The finding of the empty derelict left little doubt that he had attacked the schooner and imprisoned, or worse, perhaps killed, all those on board her.

This, in its way, was well enough, but it left the fate of the party still a mystery, and their whereabouts unknown, for “Bully” had half a dozen retreats scattered through the South Seas where he might have taken them, for even Captain Sparhawk did not believe that the ruffian would have dared to kill them.

“Like a chance to catch one uv them bastes, Mishther Riddy?” asked Tim Muldoon, the Irish quarter-master of the Sea Gypsy, who paused near where the boys were standing watching a mighty commotion in the water made by two great tiger sharks fighting desperately over a piece of spoiled pork that had been thrown overboard.

“What would we do with it when we had it?” asked Jack with a smile.

“Shure there’s a certain part of the cratirs that makes illigint ateing. Meself and several other la-ads in ther crew wouldn’t have iny objictions at all, at all to a bit of shar-ark steak if so be y’u’d loike to hook one.”

“What do you say, Billy?” asked Jack.

“That it would be good fun. But what sort of a rig do you use? No use taking an eight-ounce rod and a dry fly or a hand line to those fellows.”

“Shure oi’ve got a foine shar-ark hook up forward. I’ll go git it fer yez,” declared Muldoon, hurrying off.

He was back before long with a hook that looked like one of those used by butchers on which to hang whole carcasses. Attached to this was a length of steel chain with a swivel, and above a stout rope some hundred feet in length. Billy Raynor went below to the cook’s quarters and soon came back with a big chunk of pork which was stuck on the hook.

“How’ll we haul him out if we do get one?” Billy wanted to know, as the bait struck the water with a splash.

“Just give a holler and I’ll git some uv ther byes uv ther crew to lind yez a hand,” declared Muldoon. “Sure 'tis foine spor-rot ye’ll be hivin’ intirely—wow! murtha! Watch yersilf Misther Raynor!”

There had come a sudden vicious rush of one of the sea-monsters at the hook. Turning its hideous jaws upward, the ravenous creature had literally swallowed “hook, line and sinker.” It happened that at that precise moment Billy alone had hold of the rope.

As the shark’s jaws gripped the hook and its sharp point sunk into his flesh, the creature made a mighty rush. It caught Billy unprepared as he stood by the rail, a section of which had been removed while the crew polished the brass work.

Before he realised what was happening a coil of the rope entangled his legs. Like a bullet from a gun, he was whisked off the deck and through the air into the sea, which Jack knew was alive with sharks. It had all happened so suddenly that the last of Muldoon’s alarmed cries had not left his lips before poor Billy was towed away from the ship by the maddened shark, unable to make a move to extricate himself. He was barely able to breathe, in fact, being half submerged.

Paralyzed for an instant, Jack regained his faculties with an effort. Captain Sparhawk, who had seen the whole affair, was the first to take definite action, however. He issued an order for a boat to be lowered at once and then dashed into his cabin for a pistol.

“Hurry, Sparhawk, for Heaven’s sake,” urged Mr. Jukes, who had also been a witness of the accident. “The poor lad will be drowned or eaten alive by the other sharks if we don’t act promptly.”

But the captain was already out of earshot. Muldoon and two other sailors were at the oars of the boat as he tumbled into it, followed by Jack, who, in his haste, did not stop to ask permission to come. Luckily, the shark, instead of taking a straight course out to sea, was dashing round and round in circles. This gave them a chance to save Billy’s life, for had the great fish pursued a straight course, Raynor’s fate would undoubtedly have been sealed.

“Row for your lives, men,” urged the captain, standing erect, pistol in hand, awaiting the first opportunity for a shot at the shark.

“Shure thare’s no nade to till us thot, captain, dear,” cried Muldoon. “We’ll git the poor lad if we have to pull our own heads off.”

The shark now made a swift dash for the bow of the Sea Gypsy. Behind him, at a distance of about seventy-five feet, poor Billy’s body could be seen being rushed through the water with a “wake” behind it like that of a fast steamer. Jack could see his chum’s face, which was ashen white. But from the glimpse he had of it, the young wireless man was sure that Billy was still alive, marvelous though that seemed. For half the time, owing to the manner in which he was attached to the shark, the unfortunate lad’s head was under the surface of the water.

Bang! Captain Sparhawk’s pistol spoke as the shark crossed the bow of the boat which had been instantly turned to follow the creature’s new tactics.

“Missed,” he groaned.

“No,” cried Jack, an instant later. “See, the water is red behind him! You hit him.”

“Yes, but I fear not mortally. These creatures have an amazing grip on life,” was the despondent reply.

And now a fresh element entered into the scene. Round the bow of the yacht, toward which the shark, with its human burden, was dashing, there suddenly appeared a long, slender canoe with two lithe young native figures propelling it. It was Anai and his friend, the sworn allies of the boys.

For an instant, as the extraordinary scene presented itself to them, they stood like bronze figures. Then the full meaning of the impending tragedy appeared to strike them. With a simultaneous cry each grasped his great iron-wood knife and without the slightest hesitation leaped overboard.

“They are going to save him!” cried Jack exultingly, as the two Kanaka boys fearlessly clove the shark-infested water to attack the monster that had abducted Billy.

“And lose their own lives,” exclaimed the captain as several dark fins appeared in the water about the two intrepid youths.

The scene that ensued was one that lingered long in the recollection of those who saw it. Uttering loud yells, the two native boys bore down on the shark that had poor Billy in tow.

Each taking a side they dashed upon it with fury. As they gained its flanks their arms flashed up and the next instant their great iron-wood knives were buried hilt-deep in the tough skin. The watchers saw the great shark give an upward leap and the water was dyed crimson.

“They reached his vitals. Hurrah for them,” cried Captain Sparhawk. “Bear down on Billy, lads. I reckon the shark is done for.”

They were none too soon. After being disentangled from the rope that had caused all the trouble, Billy was hauled into the boat just in the nick of time. The rope had grazed and chafed his legs cruelly, but except for the great amount of water in his lungs he had suffered no other injury.

But no sooner had this been done than another necessity arose. The brave Anai and his companion were surrounded by a school of sharks attracted by the blood of the creature the two young Kanakas had despatched. So far, by splashing furiously, and screeching at the top of their voices, the native youths had succeeded in keeping the monsters at bay, but it was doubtful for how long they could do so.

“To the rescue, lads,” cried Captain Sparhawk, replacing the cartridge he had discharged. “Give way with a will. I wouldn’t wish to see either of those brave lads harmed.”

In a few seconds they were in the midst of the school of sharks that had assembled as if by magic, ravenous for the flesh of their dead brother. The captain’s pistol spat lead right and left, and at that short range the effect of the bullets was deadly. In a few minutes five of the sea monsters were dead. But far from being scared off the rest fell furiously upon these, making upward rushes, exposing their huge mouths with their triple rows of needle-like teeth.

Leaving them to their cannibal feast, Anai and his companion were hauled on board and at Muldoon’s special request the body of the brute that had almost caused Billy’s death was taken in tow.

“I’ll make you byes some handsome watch-charms out of his teeth fer remimbrancers,” he promised.

“As if we needed anything to remind us of it,” shuddered Jack.

“Just think, if it hadn’t been for Anai here and Bolabola I’d have been past saving by now,” cried Billy, warmly ringing their hands.

“You may well say that, lad,” agreed the captain. “They saved you from visiting Davy Jones, without a doubt.”

“We your friends. Must save you even if it cost our lives,” said Anai, looking embarrassed.

“Shure an’ thot’s more than many a white man wud say,” approved Muldoon warmly. “Byes, give us yer flippers. Ye may hav’ black skins, but be jabers yer hearts is pure gold entoirely.”

The canoe was taken in tow and the whole party returned to the yacht, where they received more congratulations from the others on board who had watched the whole affair spell-bound with alarm and then with admiration at the Kanaka boys’ brave act. The decks rang with cheers as they came on board, Captain Sparhawk and Jack supporting Billy, who was still white and shaky.

Mr. Jukes’ enthusiasm for Anai and Bolabola knew no bounds. The millionaire wanted them to accept a handful of gold pieces each. But the lads shook their heads. Gold was of little use to them. But other presents which were showered upon them they accepted gladly. There was almost a canoe-full of them, ranging from gaudy neckties to a broken concertina, the latter being presented by Muldoon. It could emit, upon coaxing, a few wheezy notes, and the brown boys appeared to prize it quite above any of their other gifts.

In the meantime, on the foredeck, to which the body of the great shark had been hoisted by slings, the members of the crew, who understood such operations, assisted by Muldoon, were cutting up the monster. From time to time they flung useless bits of offal over the side. A scramble from such of the sharks as had disposed of the dead bodies of their companions instantly ensued. Sharks are the most rapacious of any creatures on land or sea, and their appetites appeared to have been slacked in no important particular by their cannibal meal.

“Bad luck to yez,” exclaimed Muldoon, shaking his fist at them after one of these rushes, for every sailor hates a shark. “There’s many a thrue lad gone to his long rickonin’ through yez or yez mates. Bad cess to all uv yez, says Tim Muldoon.”

An interested group, among whom were Jack and Billy, watched the proceedings from the bridge. Mr. Jukes was no less interested than the rest. He attentively watched the sharks as they fought. Perhaps their feverish rapacity reminded him of certain “big business” operations at home in the States where great corporations have been not unknown to gobble up their small competitors as hungrily as any tiger shark.

“Hullo, they seem to have found something interesting,” said Jack, as a murmur arose among the butchers who suddenly crowded round Muldoon, chief of the dissectors.

“It’s a bottle,” cried Billy Raynor.

“Look here what I found in the hongry divil’s stomach,” exclaimed Muldoon, holding up his find. “Be jabers, he must hav’ a digestion a dispiptic millionaire would invy to ——”

He stopped short, covered with confusion, as he suddenly recalled that Mr. Jukes suffered from the very complaint he had mentioned.

“Bring that bottle here, Muldoon,” ordered Captain Sparhawk, in order to save what threatened to be an awkward situation, for Mr. Jukes had turned as red as a turkey-cock and the boys had had to turn away to hide their smiles.

The quartermaster hastened aft with the bottle. It was encrusted with deposits apparently caused by the acids of the shark’s stomach. But when Captain Sparhawk held it to the light, he could see that contained within it was some object.

“There’s something inside it,” he said.

“By jove, perhaps a letter from some shipwrecked sailors,” exclaimed Mr. Jukes.

“Such messages are often frauds, sir,” observed the captain. “If it should prove to be such, I’d be wary about replying to it.”

“Well, let’s have a look at it, whatever it is,” said Mr. Jukes. “This is really interesting.”

They all crowded about, even the Kanakas, as the captain smashed the bottle on the rail. A rolled-up paper dropped on the deck. Jack, at whose feet it had fallen, picked it up. He opened it and saw that it was scribbled on with pencil.

“It seems ——,” he began, when a sudden exclamation from Mr. Jukes checked his further utterance.

“Let me look at that paper,” commanded the millionaire, who, they now noticed, was breathing quickly and whose eyes shone with feverish excitement.

Jack handed it over, while they all regarded the millionaire’s agitation curiously. With hands that shook, the financier scanned the letter and then made an electrifying announcement in a voice that was tense and self-controlled, but yet betrayed the excitement under which he labored as he spoke.

“Gentlemen, the age of miracles has not passed,” he said. “When Ready first opened the paper, I thought I recognized a peculiar handwriting. I was not wrong. This message was written by my brother!”

“Incredible!” exclaimed Captain Sparhawk, unable to think of anything else to say at the astounding information.

“But, nevertheless, true. Sparhawk, this message confirms the truth of your theory about ‘Bully’ Broom. That rascal attacked and overcame the unsuspecting crew of the Centurion, and obtained the 'Tear of the Sea’.”

“The infernal scoundrel,” breathed Captain Sparhawk. “There is not another man in the South Seas who would have dared such a coup. But does the message give any clue to your brother’s fate, sir?” he added respectfully.

The millionaire’s face glowed and suddenly lost its careworn look.

“That’s the best part of it,” he explained. “But come to my cabin, captain—yes, Ready, you and Raynor may come, too,” he added as he intercepted anxious looks on the boys’ faces.

Inside the cabin the millionaire spread on the table the yellowed, scribbled bit of paper that just then meant more to him than any document he had ever seen in his life.

“I’ll read aloud,” he said, and then, in a clear voice, he recited the contents of the missive.

“I know Bomobori well,” exclaimed Captain Sparhawk, as Mr. Jukes finished reading. “I was there in '87 and again in '89.”

“What sort of a place is it?” inquired Mr. Jukes.

“Not much of a town,” was the reply. “It is at the mouth of a river that penetrates a wild country. If ‘Bully’ Broom wished to hide his captives, he could not have taken them to a better place.”

“Sparhawk,” and the millionaire’s voice was vibrant with determination, “how long will it take us to get there?”

“I should say not more than a week. But we should have to re-coal at Tahiti if we are to make the run at top speed. How about that, Raynor?”

“You’re right, captain,” said the young engineer. “I’ll guarantee to run the Sea Gypsy’s engines faster than they were ever run before, but I’ve got to have the coal to do it with.”

“That steamer is through coaling us now?” asked the millionaire, after he had made a few calculations on a scrap of paper.

“They emptied the last of their load an hour ago,” said Captain Sparhawk.

“Good,” was Mr. Jukes’ response. “Send the captain to me and I will give him my check. Raynor, how soon can you have steam up?”

“In an hour, sir,” responded the young engineer.

“Splendid; make all the time you can. Every moment is valuable now. Ready——”

Jack was all attention. Into the millionaire’s manner had come a snap and a grip of affairs that had not been there since they had sailed. He had something tangible to go upon now, and was plainly prepared to make the most of it.

“Ready,” he went on, “I want you to raise Tahiti at once. Order coal to be ready for us when we arrive and have a force of men engaged to hustle it on board without loss of time.”

“Yes, sir,” rejoined Jack, hurrying from the cabin.

Within a few minutes the entire atmosphere of the ship appeared to be charged with electricity and bustle. Black smoke volleyed from the stack and the roar of escaping steam soon came from the relief pipe. Anai and his companion, almost in tears at the thought of parting with the boys, were sent ashore, and final preparations made for the start.

Shortly before sun-down Raynor reported all ready in the engine room.

“Very well, captain,” said Mr. Jukes, “you may get up your anchor.”

The necessary orders were soon given and as the chains rattled home through the exhaust pipes the yacht swung her bow gracefully seaward. A big crowd of canoes and the small tramp, which had also taken up anchor, accompanied her some distance out to sea.

The natives raised their voices in melancholy songs as they paddled, and from time to time cried out:

“Come back, white men.”

Among them Jack and Raynor recognized Anai and the other young Kanaka. Both lads felt a genuine regret at leaving the brave, likeable young natives, but ahead of them they felt lay experiences which for the time being put all other emotions out of their minds. The Sea Gypsy, rushing ahead at top speed, soon left the rusty tramp, her consort, far behind. By dark only the summit of the island was visible on the horizon. It sank quickly from sight, and when the first stars appeared the Sea Gypsy was alone on the sea.

It was on a clear day a little more than a week later that the lookout announced land dead ahead. All on board knew that it must be New Guinea, the wild and little known country where Mr. Jukes had confident hopes of finding his lost brother. Captain Sparhawk made an excellent “land-fall,” as sailors call it, and by night they came to anchor off Bomobori.

It was a beautiful scene. The waves dashed against a golden strand. Behind lay vast and mysterious forests, looking dark and uninviting in the evening light. Beyond the forests rose great mountains veiled in the bluish mist of the far distances. As darkness fell, the lights of Bomobori began to twinkle, casting reflections in the still waters of the harbor and river, the mouth of which latter could be seen to the north of the town.

“Well, I’m ready to go ashore,” remarked Raynor, as he joined Jack on deck at the conclusion of his duties in the engine-room. “It will certainly feel good to put foot on shore once more.”

“Indeed it will,” agreed Jack, warmly. “I’m anxious to get a look at New Guinea too. It’s a country about which very little is known—I mean so far as the interior is concerned.”

“Well, we are likely to have plenty of opportunity for exploration,” said Raynor. “I heard Mr. Jukes telling the captain that he believed, from what he had heard about ‘Bully’ Broom at Tahiti where he is well known, that the rascal has a secret hiding place in the interior somewhere.”

“Then it’s likely to take a long time to locate him,” said Jack. “This is a pretty big country and very densely wooded, with big mountains and rivers galore. I’m afraid it’s a needle and hay-stack job.”

“I expect Mr. Jukes means to get a clue in Bomobori, where Broom is probably well known,” hazarded Raynor.

“That is probably his idea,” said Jack. “Anyhow, he is not a man who would give up his purpose for any ordinary difficulties.”

It was decided not to leave the yacht till the morning. It can well be imagined then that the sleep of the boys that night was not as sound as usual. Both lay awake wondering what lay before them, and whether they would succeed or fail in the mission, for that evening Mr. Jukes had appointed them members of the expedition, and declared that he would rely upon them to the uttermost to aid him.

It was then that Jack had made a suggestion. The yacht was to be left in the harbor with a crew to guard her, but communication with her might be important, even necessary, if they were driven to some other part of the coast and were unable to return to Bomobori.

Jack’s suggestion was that, with the spare parts of the ship’s wireless, of which a big stock was carried, he should construct a portable radio apparatus by means of which they could at all times be in touch with the yacht. He had an idea that he could do this easily. Thurman, who had been conducting himself in an irreproachable manner, could be left in charge of the Sea Gypsy’s plant with perfect safety, the boy felt confident. And so, subject to his success with a portable set, it was arranged.

“This doesn’t appear to be much of a town,” observed Raynor, as they landed the next day, a little before noon, in a warm, gentle shower of rain such as frequently swept across the island at that time of the year.

“Well, you could hardly expect to find it a New York or London, you know,” rejoined Jack.

In truth Bomobori was a very fair specimen of a town in that section of the world. Along the water front, back of which squatted a line of tin-roofed warehouses, were moored native craft from up the river with bamboo cabins and great lattice sails that housed a whole family of natives. In spite of the rain it was warm and steamy, and a strange assortment of odors greeted their nostrils as the boat was run up to the principal dock and made fast.

The population was a very mixed one. Pallid white men, who looked like Frenchmen for the most part, rubbed elbows on the water front with Chinese, Lascars, Malays, Javanese and the wild-looking Papuans from the interior with their frizzed hair and ornamental cloaks of bird skins and long spears. Here and there a stout German in white ducks waddled by with a sun-helmeted Englishman. There appeared to be quite a lot of trading going on.

But they were anxious to hurry on to the hotel where Mr. Jukes hoped to begin the inquiries which he was sanguine would result in his finding his brother. The hostelry for which they were bound lay some squares back from the water front. It was situated, like most tropical hotels, in a park in which flowers and shrubs of all kinds grew luxuriantly, and bright colored birds flew with harsh cries, like (bright) jewels, among the brilliant foliage. It was a two-story affair in front of which a fountain plashed coolingly in the hot, heavy air. Verandas, upon which every room opened, completely surrounded each story.

They entered the office where the hand baggage they had brought was picked up by barefooted, white-garmented servants. Mr. Jukes was bending over the register writing his name and those of his party when Jack caught sight of somebody lounging in a bamboo chair in the reading room that nearly took his breath away.

“Well, if that isn’t——”

“What is it, Jack?” asked Billy quickly.

“Look at that chap there reading a paper. It’s Donald Judson—Donald Judson, as sure as you’re a foot high!”

Jack was right; the boy sitting in the reading room was indeed the formerly ne’er-do-well son of the man who had headed the plot to steal the naval code, though what he could be doing in Bomobori neither of the boys could guess. But so changed was he in appearance from the flashily-dressed, aggressively-conceited Donald Judson they had known, that for a moment both boys doubted the evidence of their eyes.

Donald had always, in the past, been inclined to dudishness in his clothes. Now his clothing was dilapidated and torn, his shoes were old canvas ones that looked ready to fall apart, and he had a scarecrow of a battered straw hat on his head.

Moreover, his face was careworn and his cheeks hollow and one eye appeared to have suffered a blow of some sort for it was blackened and swollen. Altogether he was a most woebegone looking specimen of humanity, and the boys wondered he was suffered about the hotel. Donald’s presence there, however, was later accounted for, although this, of course, the boys did not know, by a long tale of disaster and suffering he had sustained while gold hunting in the interior. Donald said he was expecting remittances from America and on this account had been accommodated with quarters.

“My gracious, what a change,” exclaimed Billy under his breath. “He looks like a regular scarecrow.”

“He must have been in mighty tough luck,” rejoined Jack. “But what beats me is what he is doing here. It’s a very odd coincidence that we should run into two of our old enemies on this trip.”

“It is, indeed. But see, he is looking at us. I suppose we ought to speak to the poor chap.”

Donald had dropped his paper and was staring straight at the two lads as if they had been ghosts. Then he got to his feet and came toward them.

“Jack Ready!” he exclaimed, “where did you come from?”

“We might ask the same question of you, Judson,” said Jack, “but—er—you’ll excuse my saying so, but you look as if you’d been in hard luck lately.”

“I have been, oh I have been,” said Donald, in a voice far different from his old bragging one. “I got out of a job and shipped for a sailor. I’d heard it was a fine life. The ship I was on sailed away from Honolulu while I was still ashore after overstopping my leave. Then I got a job on a schooner that had a bad reputation, when I was nearly starved, but I had to live somehow. The captain of the South Sea Lass was a brute. He——”

“Here, hold on,” cried Jack, seizing his arm which was thin and bony, “was his name Broom——”

“Yes. ‘Bully’ Broom. He is little better than a pirate. He treated me worse than a dog, and finally, after blacking my eye, put me ashore here several days ago. He——say, hold on, what’s the matter?”

Jack and Billy had seized him one on each side and were dragging him across the floor of the hotel office.

“There’s somebody here we want you to tell your story to,” explained Jack. “It’ll be worth something to you, but be sure to tell the truth.”

“As if I could lie, no matter what I said about that wretch, ‘Bully’ Broom,” declared Donald. “I’m sure he was mixed up in some illegal business. Why we put into an island called the Pommer-Pommer——”

“The Pamatous?” came from Billy.

“That’s it.”

“And some men were taken prisoners from a schooner called the Centurion?” demanded Jack.

“Yes, but see here Ready, how in the world——?”

“Never mind that. What became of those prisoners?”

“He locked them up in cabins. He said that they were bad men and pearl robbers and that he was bringing them to justice.”

“Did you ever talk with them?”

“No; except one, and I never got a chance to say much to him. Broom watched me very closely. He’d have murdered me if he’d thought that I was trying to pry into his affairs.”

“What was the name of the man you talked to?”

“He was a kind of a leader of the party, I guess,” was the reply. “I used to take him his meals and there were precious few of those too, for we were on short rations ourselves.”

“But his name—his name?” demanded Jack.

“Oh, Flukes—something like that, anyhow. I never was good at names.”

“Was it Jukes?”

“That was it,” cried Donald, snapping his fingers.

“Well, boys, what’s the matter?” demanded the missing man’s brother as he finished with the register and turned amazedly to face his two young followers grasping Donald’s ragged figure on each side as if they had a prisoner in custody.

“Mr. Jukes, this boy has seen and talked to your brother within the last two weeks,” was the announcement from Jack that sent the millionaire staggering back against the hotel desk, for once in his life giving way to uncontrolled amazement.

“Bless my soul,” he exclaimed, when he found breath, “you boys are always digging up somebody. Who is this?”

He regarded the ragged figure of the unfortunate Donald with some disapprobation. Jack explained, and then Donald, stumbling and stuttering somewhat under Mr. Jukes’ steady eye, told his story.

“But you have not told us the most important part of it all,” said the millionaire, as he concluded. “Where was my unfortunate brother taken to by this ruffian?”

“That’s just what I don’t know, sir,” rejoined the boy. “You see, they took good care I shouldn’t know too much about their operations. All I know is that I heard them saying something about 'up the river.’”

“Meaning this river—the Bomobori?” asked Mr. Jukes.

“I suppose so.”

“Do you know where the schooner is now?” was the millionaire’s next question, but Donald did not. All he knew was that, after landing him in Bomobori, ‘Bully’ Broom had departed under cover of night. Where he had headed for was a mystery.

Jack whispered something to the millionaire when Donald had concluded his narrative and Mr. Jukes put his hand in his pocket and drew out some coins. Then as he moved off Jack rather hesitatingly said to Donald:

“You’ve had a hard time of it for money, I suppose?”

“Hard? That’s no name for it,” exclaimed the other. “That rascal Broom never gave me a cent, though when he shipped me he promised me wages. If you hadn’t arrived I don’t know what I should have done.”

“Well, we are willing to let bygones be bygones,” said Jack.

“It wouldn’t be fair to be rough on a fellow who is down on his luck,” muttered Donald rather grudgingly. “And—and I guess I’ve learned a lesson, fellows.”

“By the way, Donald,” said Jack, handing the boy the coins Mr. Jukes had given him, “here is something from Mr. Jukes to help you along for the present. I am sure he will see to it that you do not suffer any more hardships in return for the valuable information you have given us.”

The destitute lad’s face brightened wonderfully. The money—about twenty dollars—was more than he had seen in a long time. He fingered the coins greedily.

“I—I’m much obliged to you and to your friend, too,” he muttered rather shamefacedly, “and—er—I’m sorry I ever played you mean tricks.”

“Never mind about that now,” said Jack, cutting him short. “My advice to you is not to hang about here, but to get a job on the first ship that touches here and go home.”

“I’ll go down to the shipping offices right now and see what the chances are,” promised Donald, and with a new spring in his step he started out of the hotel.

“What a change,” exclaimed Jack, when he had gone. “I never thought Donald Judson could become so humbled.”

“He is certainly blue, and that is hardly surprising,” agreed Billy. “But the question is whether his seeming repentance is sincere.”

“Let’s hope all that he has been through has taught him a good lesson,” said Jack.

“It surely ought to have,” said Billy, and then the subject was dismissed by a tall, half-clothed native striding into the lobby and beating stridently on a huge brass gong inscribed with queer characters.

“What’s that for?” asked Jack of the clerk behind the desk who looked like a German.

“Dot iss for Riz Tavel,” replied the clerk.

“For Riz who?” asked Billy.

“For Riz Tavel,” rejoined the man impatiently, as if surprised at their ignorance. “Riz Tavel, dot means lunch.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Jack. “Well, I’m ready for it whatever they call it.”

At the summons of the gong several guests of the hotel came into the lobby, appearing as if they had just got out of bed. The boys were amazed to see that many of the male guests wore pyjamas, while the women were in negligee. This, however, applied only to the half castes and Dutch residents. The Germans and English, who did most of the trading at Bomobori, wore tropical suits of conventional make.

They were waited on by barefooted Malays who set before each of the boys and their shipmates, when these latter appeared, big soup plates full of rice.

“They call this the 'riz-tavel,’ that means the rice table,” explained Captain Sparhawk, thus clearing away the secret of the mysterious words. “Rice is a staple all through the East, just like bread is at home.”

Having filled their plates with rice, as they saw everybody else do, the Americans waited for the next move. The waiters had all vanished after depositing the rice, and Jack was moved to remark whether that was all they were going to get.

His question was answered by the re-appearance of the barefooted servitors. They bore numerous dishes piled with fish, duck, chicken, pork, omelette, onions and peppers. The guests all piled portions of every one of these dishes on the top of the rice, and the visitors seeing that they were not expected to ask for more plates were fain to do the same. The boys, however, balked at a thin curried sauce which was supposed to be poured over this hodge-podge of edibles.

Having disposed of what in itself was a mighty meal they then found that they were expected to despatch beefsteaks, salad and fruit.

“Well, they don’t starve you here, that’s one thing sure,” said Jack.

“You must remember that their 'breakfast,’ as they call it, is eaten in the cool of the morning and usually only consists of coffee and fruit,” said Captain Sparhawk.

A groan from the dyspeptic Mr. Jukes, who had eaten a hearty meal, was followed soon after by the breaking up of the party. There was much to be attended to, but Captain Sparhawk said it would be useless to try to transact business till the late afternoon when the sea breeze sprung up. The interval between riz-tavel and that hour he said was set aside for sleeping, and nobody ever dreamed of interfering with the custom. In fact, he would have found nobody to transact business with.

He warned the boys against walking about in the scorchingly hot afternoon sun also, as it was said to induce fevers. There was nothing left for them to do, therefore, but to pass the afternoon in their rooms, although they would have preferred exploring the town.

When they came down again they found Donald Judson in the lobby. He appeared very disconsolate. He said that no ships for American ports would call at the port for a long time.

“I guess I’m stuck here for the rest of my life,” he complained, and then made a sudden suggestion.

“Say, why can’t you take me with you on that expedition?” he asked, for the boys had told him something about the object of their presence in New Guinea.

“Um—er—I don’t know that Mr. Jukes wants anybody else along,” hesitated Jack.

“I’d work hard and do anything I was told to,” said Donald pleadingly. “Won’t you ask him about it? It’s awful to be stuck here like a bump on a log.”

“Well, perhaps we might see about it,” relented Jack, really feeling sorry for the unhappy plight of their former enemy, mean and despicable as he had proved himself to have been in the past.

“Thanks, awfully,” exclaimed Donald, gratefully, and he went off through the gardens, saying that he was going to get himself a pair of new shoes. Soon after Mr. Jukes, having got over his attack of dyspepsia, appeared, the boys laid Donald’s request before him.

“I really don’t know,” he hesitated. “Of course, the lad is in hard luck, but somehow I don’t exactly like his looks and I don’t see what use he could be to us. I’d rather leave money here to pay for his living till some ship arrives he could get a berth on.”

“If you left him money in a place like this he might fall back into his old bad ways,” suggested Jack.

“That is true. I wouldn’t wish to push any one down the hill when there was a chance of helping them up,” said the millionaire, musingly. “Well, I’ll see about it,” he added after an interval of thought. Just then, as Captain Sparhawk came up, the incident was ended and the two elders set out for a trading store to arrange for supplies and other necessaries for their dash into the interior, for Mr. Jukes had resolved to act on Donald Judson’s unexpected clue and make his way up the river.

“I’ve got a notion that if we did take that fellow Donald along that he would make trouble for us,” said Raynor as soon as they were out of ear-shot.

“I don’t see how he could, or what object he would have,” doubted Jack. “Still, I myself wouldn’t trust him very far, in spite of his declarations of reform.”

But as it so happened neither of the boys need have troubled themselves over the matter, for that evening, when Mr. Jukes sent for Donald to have a talk with him, the boy’s manner had changed entirely. He was no longer servile and cringing as he had been earlier. In fact, he intimated very plainly that he wanted nothing more to do with the Jukes party.

There was a reason for this, a reason that none of the party naturally was able at the time to guess. Donald’s change of front was not due to any mere caprice. A deep-seated reason lay behind it, and that reason was rooted in an encounter he had had just after he left the boys in the hotel garden.