the beach.

"Not at least before I have sent a bullet, to ascertain
the true quality of your skins," said Grantham, levelling
his pistol.

"Sure-LY," said Desborough, as he turned and drew himself
to the full height of his bony and muscular figure, while
his eye measured the officer from head to foot, with a
look of concentrated but suppressed fury, "you wouldn't
dare to do this--you wouldn't dare to fire into my canoe--
besides, consider," he said, in a tone somewhat deprecating,
"your bullet may go through her, and you would hardly do
a fellor the injury to make him lose the chance of a good
cargo."

"Then why provoke such a disaster, by refusing to show
us what is beneath those blankets?"

"Because it's my pleasure to do so," fiercely retorted
the other, "and I won't show them to no man."

"Then is it my pleasure to fire," said Grantham. "The
injury be on your own head, Desborough--one--two--."

At that moment the sail was violently agitated--something
struggling for freedom, cast the blankets on one side,
and presently the figure of a man stood upright in the
bows of the canoe, and gazed around him with an air of
stupid astonishment.