"I'm glad you're here, sir," said he to the Master. "There's trouble
enough, already."

"Stowaway?" The Master advanced to the nearer cot.

"Yes, sir. Perhaps not voluntarily so. You know how he was found."

"Such oversight is inexcusable!" The Master leaned down and shook the
man by the shoulder. "Come, now!" he demanded. "What's your name?"
Curiously he looked at the stranger, a man of great strength, with
long arms and powerful, prehensile hands that reminded one of an
ape's.

"It's no use questioning him, sir," put in Lombardo, while the major
peered curiously at Alden and at the other cot where a man was lying
with a froth of bright, arterial blood on his lips. Though this man
was suffering torment, no groan escaped him. A kind of gray shadow had
settled about eyes and mouth--the shadow of the death angel's wings.

"It's no use, sir," repeated the doctor. "He hasn't recovered
consciousness enough, yet, to be questioned. When he does, I'll
report."

"Do so!" returned the Master, curtly. "I hardly think we need use much
ceremony in disposing of him." He turned to the other cot. "Well, sir,
how about this man?"

"I'm--all right, sir," weakly coughed the wounded New Zealander. He
tried to bring a hand to his forehead, but could hardly lift it