dreamed of any delicacy of the many delicacies which he consumed all the
time. Because of these matters he even pulled through a light attack of
home-sickness, and was as contented a human as ever sailed the seas.

And Kwaque it was who pulled Michael through the port-hole into Dag
Daughtry's stateroom and waited for that worthy to arrive by the
roundabout way of the door. After a quick look around the room and a
sniff of the bunk and under the bunk which informed him that Jerry was
not present, Michael turned his attention to Kwaque.

Kwaque tried to be friendly. He uttered a clucking noise in
advertisement of his friendliness, and Michael snarled at this black who
had dared to lay hands upon him--a contamination, according to Michael's
training--and who now dared to address him who associated only with white
gods.

Kwaque passed off the rebuff with a silly gibbering laugh and started to
step nearer the door to be in readiness to open it at his master's
coming. But at first lift of his leg, Michael flew at it. Kwaque
immediately put it down, and Michael subsided, though he kept a watchful
guard. What did he know of this strange black, save that he was a black
and that, in the absence of a white master, all blacks required watching?
Kwaque tried slowly sliding his foot along the floor, but Michael knew
the trick and with bristle and growl put a stop to it.

It was upon this tableau that Daughtry entered, and, while he admired
Michael much under the bright electric light, he realized the situation.

"Kwaque, you make 'm walk about leg belong you," he commanded, in order
to make sure.