"INAGUA IS A QUEER LITTLE ISLAND" 69 



happy to discuss the matter further. 



With this astounding information our newly formed ac- 

 quaintance gave a wave of his hand and departed for the shore 

 under the shade of the umbrella which he had raised against 

 the sun. For a moment we were speechless, and then Coleman 

 swore— vividly and luridly. 



"How did that fellow know we were shipwrecked?" 



"I'm sure I don't know," I assured him, "maybe this Daxon 

 outfit got word to him— possibly we had better get ashore and 

 find out what it is all about." 



"What about going ashore," I called to Daxon. 



"Yas, suh, Cap'n, jus' as soon as we gets permission from de 

 Commissioner— he be down as soon as he eat breakfas'." 



Eight o'clock came and passed, then nine. By nine-thirty 

 the heat on deck was becoming unbearable. By ten both Cole- 

 man and I were thoroughly out of patience. 



"If this chap doesn't come soon I'm going ashore anyway," 

 Coleman grumbled. "What does he think we are going to do, 

 steal his blasted island? " 



He began to untie the painter of the small skiff which we 

 were towing astern. His designs, however, were frustrated by 

 the arrival of a small boat bearing two messages— one from Mr. 

 Richardson requesting our attendance at dinner and the other 

 from the Commissioner giving us permission to land. Attached 

 to the Commissioner's message was a note asking our presence 

 in the government building— the one with red shutters— to 

 stand trial at one o'clock. 



We looked at each other nonplussed. 



"What do you make of that," I asked. "Did you murder 

 somebody and not let me in on it? What are we supposed to 

 goon trial for?" 



"Search me," he replied, "I haven't done anything." 



A few seconds later we sHd up on the beach, jumped quickly 



