Kwaque's glance of apprehension at Michael was convincing enough, but the
steward insisted. Kwaque gingerly obeyed, but scarcely had his foot
moved an inch when Michael's was upon him. The foot and leg petrified,
while Michael stiff-leggedly drew a half-circle of intimidation about
him.

"Got you nailed to the floor, eh?" Daughtry chuckled. "Some
nigger-chaser, my word, any amount."

"Hey, you, Kwaque, go fetch 'm two fella bottle of beer stop 'm along
icey-chestis," he commanded in his most peremptory manner.

Kwaque looked beseechingly, but did not stir. Nor did he stir at a
harsher repetition of the order.

"My word!" the steward bullied. "Suppose 'm you no fetch 'm beer close
up, I knock 'm eight bells 'n 'a dog-watch onta you. Suppose 'm you no
fetch 'm close up, me make 'm you go ashore 'n' walk about along King
William Island."

"No can," Kwaque murmured timidly. "Eye belong dog look along me too
much. Me no like 'm dog kai-kai along me."

"You fright along dog?" his master demanded.

"My word, me fright along dog any amount."

Dag Daughtry was delighted. Also, he was thirsty from his trip ashore
and did not prolong the situation.