98 MYSTIC ISLES 



the vanilla for him, and got hold of it, and then out by 

 the vegetable garden Brown hit the poor devil of a 

 Chink over the nut with a club." 



McHenry got up from the table, and with Llew- 

 ellyn's walking-stick showed exactly how the blow 

 was struck. He brought down the cane so viciously 

 against the edge of the table that he spilled our rum 

 punches. 



"Mac," exclaimed Llewellyn, testily, as he shot him 

 a hot glance from the melancholy eyes under his black 

 thatch of brows, "behave yourself! You know you 're 

 lying." 



McHenry laughed sourly, and went on : 



"I was chums with Brown then, and when I caught up 

 to him, — I was walkin' behind them, — he asked me to 

 see if the Chink was dead. I went back to where he 

 had tumbled him. He was layin' on his back in a kind 

 o' ditch, and he was white instead o' yeller. He was 

 white as Lvin' Bill's schooner. How would vou 'a' 

 done? Well, to protect that dirty pup Brown, I cov- 

 ered him over with leaves from head to foot — big bread- 

 fruit- and cocoanut-leaves. He never showed up again, 

 and Brown had the vanilla. That's how he got his 

 start, and, so help me God ! I never got a franc from the 

 business." 



There was venom in McHenry's tone, and he looked at 

 me, the newcomer, to see what impression he had made. 

 The others said not a word of comment, and it may 

 have been an often-told tale by him. He had emptied 

 his glass of the potent Martinique rum four or five times. 



"Was the Chinaman sure dead when you put the 



