appearance. From being a dark and deserted place it was now rather
lively. There were lights in most of the houses and people waiting
in the street.

On our way out of the village, an hour or two before, we had
noticed a tent at the edge of the inlet, just above Gregory's hut.
The people in the tent had turned out now,--they were three young
men, who seemed to have been camping there. They had hung a
lighted Japanese lantern over the door of the tent, and one of the
campers was playing on a banjo.

The constable halted the whole procession, and ordered one of his
assistants to put the banjo-player under arrest.

"I won't have it!" he shouted, "he's disturbin' the peace!"

Everyone laughed at this,--there was so much noise in the street
that the banjo could hardly be heard. But a man went across the
road, took the player by the arm, and told him that he must come
along. The banjo-player seemed to be perfectly dumb-founded; his
friends gathered round, argued, threatened, and finally laughed,
and tried to treat the whole thing as a joke. Eb was stubborn, and
the man joined our parade, with his banjo under his arm.

The police-station and jail were both in a new building half way
up the hill. Into this we were hurried, and the doors were shut.

"Keep 'em all out!" shouted the constable, "keep 'em all out,
except members of the possy!"