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“If you are not careful I will punch your head,” I said.

“Don’t mind me, sir,” said the captain, significantly, turning an enormous back upon us.

“Is it business you’re talking, or fight?” inquired the Beautiful Man. “You sort of mix a feller up.”

“I tell you I’ll pay you one hundred dollars on those terms,” I said.

“Hand them along, then,” said Hinton. “I tyke you.”

Unbuckling the money-belt I wore round my waist, I called upon the captain to witness the proceedings, and counted out one hundred dollars in gold. Without a word the Beautiful Man resigned his order into my hands and tied up the money in the corner of a dirty handkerchief, looking at me the while with something almost like compunction.

“Would you mind accepting this red pearl?” he said, producing a trumpery pill of a thing that was worth perhaps a dollar. “You might value it for old syke’s syke.”

I was rather disarmed by this gift and took it with a smile, putting in another good word for Bo.

“Might I ask what you are going to do now?” asked the captain, addressing Hinton in a tone that bordered on ferocity.