her hair; but a four-legged creature of battle, a fanged killer ripe

to rend and destroy.
Jerry intended to attack as soon as he had crept sufficiently near.

He was unaware of the Ariel taboo against nigger-chasing. At that
moment it had no place in his consciousness. All he knew was that

harm threatened the man and woman and that this nigger intended this
harm.

So much had Jerry gained on his quarry, that when again the black
squatted for his shot, Jerry deemed he was near enough to rush. The

rifle was coming to shoulder when he sprang forward. Swiftly as he
sprang, he made no sound, and his victim's first warning was when

Jerry's body, launched like a projectile, smote the black squarely
between the shoulders. At the same moment his teeth entered the

back of the neck, but too near the base in the lumpy shoulder
muscles to permit the fangs to penetrate to the spinal cord.

In the first fright of surprise, the black's finger pulled the
trigger and his throat loosed an unearthly yell. Knocked forward on

his face, he rolled over and grappled with Jerry, who slashed cheek-
bone and cheek and ribboned an ear; for it is the way of an Irish

terrier to bite repeatedly and quickly rather than to hold a bulldog
grip.

When Harley Kennan, automatic in hand and naked as Adam, reached the
spot, he found dog and man locked together and tearing up the forest

mould in their struggle. The black, his face streaming blood, was
throttling Jerry with both hands around his neck; and Jerry,

snorting, choking, snarling, was scratching for dear life with the
claws of his hind feet. No puppy claws were they, but the stout

claws of a mature dog that were stiffened by a backing of hard
muscles. And they ripped naked chest and abdomen full length again

and again until the whole front of the man was streaming red.
Harley Kennan did not dare chance a shot, so closely were the

combatants locked. Instead, stepping in close; he smashed down the
butt of his automatic upon the side of the man's head. Released by

the relaxing of the stunned black's hands, Jerry flung himself in a
flash upon the exposed throat, and only Harley's hand on his neck

and Harley's sharp command made him cease and stand clear. He
trembled with rage and continued to snarl ferociously, although he

would desist long enough to glance up with his eyes, flatten his
ears, and wag his tail each time Harley uttered "Good boy."

"Good boy" he knew for praise; and he knew beyond any doubt, by
Harley's repetition of it, that he had served him and served him

well.
"Do you know the beggar intended to bush-whack us," Harley told

Villa, who, half-dressed and still dressing, had joined him. "It
wasn't fifty feet and he couldn't have missed. Look at the

Winchester. No old smooth bore. And a fellow with a gun like that
would know how to use it."

"But why didn't he?" she queried.
Her husband pointed to Jerry.

Villa's eyes brightened with quick comprehension. "You mean . . .
?" she began.

He nodded. "Just that. Sing Song Silly beat him to it." He bent,
rolled the man over, and discovered the lacerated back of the neck.

"That's where he landed on him first, and he must have had his
finger on the trigger, drawing down on you and me, most likely me

first, when Sing Song Silly broke up his calculations."
Villa was only half hearing, for she had Jerry in her arms and was

calling him "Blessed Dog," the while she stilled his snarling and
soothed down the last bristling hair.

But Jerry snarled again and was for leaping upon the black when he
stirred restlessly and dizzily sat up. Harley removed a knife from

between the bare skin and a belt.
"What name belong you?" he demanded.

But the black had eyes only for Jerry, staring at him in wondering
amaze until he pieced the situation together in his growing clarity

of brain and realized that such a small chunky animal had spoiled
his game.

"My word," he grinned to Harley, "that fella dog put 'm crimp along
me any amount."

He felt out the wounds of his neck and face, while his eyes embraced
the fact that the white master was in possession of his rifle.

"You give 'm musket belong me," he said impudently.
"I give 'm you bang alongside head," was Harley's answer.

"He doesn't seem to me to be a regular Malaitan," he told Villa.
"In the first place, where would he get a rifle like that? Then

think of his nerve. He must have seen us drop anchor, and he must
have known our launch was on the beach. Yet he played to take our

heads and get away with them back into the bush--"
"What name belong you?" he again demanded.

But not until Johnny and the launch crew arrived breathless from
their run, did he learn. Johnny's eyes gloated when he beheld the

prisoner, and he addressed Kennan in evident excitement.
"You give 'm me that fella boy," he begged. "Eh? You give 'm me

that fella boy."
"What name you want 'm?"

Not for some time would Johnny answer this question, and then only
when Kennan told him that there was no harm done and that he

intended to let the black go. At this Johnny protested vehemently.
"Maybe you fetch 'm that fella boy along Government House, Tulagi,

Government House give 'm you twenty pounds. Him plenty bad fella
boy too much. Makawao he name stop along him. Bad fella boy too

much. Him Queensland boy--"
"What name Queensland?" Kennan interrupted. "He belong that fella

place?"
Johnny shook his head.

"Him belong along Malaita first time. Long time before too much he
recruit 'm along schooner go work along Queensland."

"He's a return Queenslander," Harley interpreted to Villa. "You
know, when Australia went 'all white,' the Queensland plantations

had to send all the black birds back. This Makawao is evidently one
of them, and a hard case as well, if there's anything in Johnny's

gammon about twenty pounds reward for him. That's a big price for a
black."

Johnny continued his explanation which, reduced to flat and sober
English, was to the effect that Makawao had always borne a bad

character. In Queensland he had served a total of four years in
jail for thefts, robberies, and attempted murder. Returned to the

Solomons by the Australian government, he had recruited on Buli
Plantation for the purpose--as was afterwards proved--of getting

arms and ammunition. For an attempt to kill the manager he had
received fifty lashes at Tulagi and served a year. Returned to Buli

Plantation to finish his labour service, he had contrived to kill
the owner in the manager's absence and to escape in a whaleboat.

In the whaleboat with him he had taken all the weapons and
ammunition of the plantation, the owner's head, ten Malaita

recruits, and two recruits from San Cristobal--the two last because
they were salt-water men and could handle the whaleboat. Himself

and the ten Malaitans, being bushmen, were too ignorant of the sea
to dare the long passage from Guadalcanar.

On the way, he had raided the little islet of Ugi, sacked the store,
and taken the head of the solitarytrader, a gentle-souled half-

caste from Norfolk Island who traced back directly to a Pitcairn
ancestry straight from the loins of McCoy of the Bounty. Arrived

safely at Malaita, he and his fellows, no longer having any use for
the two San Cristobal boys, had taken their heads and eaten their

bodies.