him and down into the bottom of the canoe. Daughtry kissed with his lips
again, and Michael turned around so as to face him, sat down, and rested
his head on the steward's knees.

"I reckon I can take my affydavy on a stack of Bibles that the dog just
up an' followed me," he grinned in Michael's ear.

"Washee-washee quick fella," he commanded.

The ancient obediently dipped his paddle and started pottering an erratic
course in the general direction of the cluster of lights that marked the
_Makambo_. But he was too feeble, panting and wheezing continually from
the exertion and pausing to rest off strokes between strokes. The
steward impatiently took the paddle away from him and bent to the work.

Half-way to the steamer the ancient ceased wheezing and spoke, nodding
his head at Michael.

"That fella dog he belong big white marster along schooner . . . You give
'm me ten stick tobacco," he added after due pause to let the information
sink in.

"I give 'm you bang alongside head," Daughtry assured him cheerfully.
"White marster along schooner plenty friend along me too much. Just now
he stop 'm along _Makambo_. Me take 'm dog along him along _Makambo_."

There was no further conversation from the ancient, and though he lived
long years after, he never mentioned the midnight passenger in the canoe
who carried Michael away with him. When he saw and heard the confusion
and uproar on the beach later that night when Captain Kellar turned