"'But w'at about this good thing you was mentioning, Mr. Rosebury?' asks
Cap'n George, polite, but staring hard at the bag. Jule and the cook was
in the cabin likewise. The skipper would have liked to keep 'em out, but
they being two to one, he couldn't.

"'That's it,' answers Rosy, cheerful.

"'W'at's it?'

"'Why, the things in the grip; the photograph things. You see,' says
Rosy, getting excited, his innocent, dreamy eyes a-shining behind his
specs and the ridge of red hair around his bald spot waving like a hedge
of sunflowers; 'you see,' he says, 'my experience has convinced me that
there's a fortune right in these islands for a photographer who'll take
pictures of the natives. They're all dying to have their photographs
took. Why, when I was in Hello Island I could have took dozens, only
they didn't have the money to pay for 'em and I couldn't wait till they
got some. But you've got a schooner. You could sail around from one
island to another, me taking pictures and you getting copra and--and
pearls and things from the natives in trade for 'em. And we'd leave a
standing order for more plates to be delivered steady from the steamer
at Suva or somewheres, and--'

"''Old on!' Cap'n George had been getting redder and redder in the face
while Rosy was talking, and now he fairly biled over, like a teakettle.
''Old on!' he roars. 'Do I understand that THIS is the good thing
you was going to let me in on? Me to cruise you around from Dan to
Beersheby, feeding you, and giving you tobacco to smoke--'

"''Twas my tobacco,' breaks in Julius.