My Native Servants. 
IOI 
the face of the reef and drop their lines into 
the sea again. At one place, where the curve 
of the reef broke the first force of the rushing 
seas, were gathered some dozen or so of young 
girls, all standing up to their waists in the 
troubled surf, catching a species of small rock 
cod that came in with the rising tide, and 
dropping them into the baskets carried on their 
naked backs. Every now and then, however, 
a wavering, leaping wall of backwash from the 
shore would make them spring for safety upon 
the round, isolated knobs of coral that here and 
there studded the ledge on which they stood. 
For any one of them to lose her footing meant 
being carried out by the backwash over the edge 
of the reef, and, if not drowned, being severely 
lacerated by the jagged coral. My friend and 
I sat looking at them for some time, when pre¬ 
sently he said : 
“ Look at that girl right on the very edge— 
the one with the big bundle on her back. She’ll 
get knocked over by the next sea to a dead 
certainty. By jove, it’s a child she’s carrying. 
Man, it’s your youngster ! ” 
In another moment we tore down the rocky 
path, and plunging into the water, ran along 
