Adventure | Page 8

Billy, take um this fella boy along tree and
make fast, hands high up," was Sheldon's command.
While this was being done, slowly, amidst mutterings and restlessness
on the part of the onlookers, one of the house-boys fetched a
heavy-handled, heavy-lashed whip. Sheldon began a speech.
"This fella Arunga, me cross along him too much. I no steal this fella
Arunga. I no gammon. I say, 'All right, you come along me Berande,
work three fella year.' He say, 'All right, me come along you work three
fella year.' He come. He catch plenty good fella kai-kai, {2} plenty
good fella money. What name he run away? Me too much cross along
him. I knock what name outa him fella. I pay Seelee, big fella master

along Balesuna, one case tobacco catch that fella Arunga. All right.
Arunga pay that fella case tobacco. Six pounds that fella Arunga pay.
Alle same one year more that fella Arunga work Berande. All right.
Now he catch ten fella whip three times. You fella Billy catch whip,
give that fella Arunga ten fella three times. All fella boys look see, all
fella Marys {3} look see; bime bye, they like run away they think
strong fella too much, no run away. Billy, strong fella too much ten
fella three times."
The house-boy extended the whip to him, but Billy did not take it.
Sheldon waited quietly. The eyes of all the cannibals were fixed upon
him in doubt and fear and eagerness. It was the moment of test,
whereby the lone white man was to live or be lost.
"Ten fella three times, Billy," Sheldon said encouragingly, though there
was a certain metallic rasp in his voice.
Billy scowled, looked up and looked down, but did not move.
"Billy!"
Sheldon's voice exploded like a pistol shot. The savage started
physically. Grins overspread the grotesque features of the audience, and
there was a sound of tittering.
"S'pose you like too much lash that fella Arunga, you take him fella
Tulagi," Billy said. "One fella government agent make plenty lash. That
um fella law. Me savvee um fella law."
It was the law, and Sheldon knew it. But he wanted to live this day and
the next day and not to die waiting for the law to operate the next week
or the week after.
"Too much talk along you!" he cried angrily. "What name eh? What
name?"
"Me savvee law," the savage repeated stubbornly.

"Astoa!"
Another man stepped forward in almost a sprightly way and glanced
insolently up. Sheldon was selecting the worst characters for the lesson.
"You fella Astoa, you fella Narada, tie up that fella Billy alongside
other fella same fella way."
"Strong fella tie," he cautioned them.
"You fella Astoa take that fella whip. Plenty strong big fella too much
ten fella three times. Savvee!"
"No," Astoa grunted.
Sheldon picked up the rifle that had leaned against the rail, and cocked
it.
"I know you, Astoa," he said calmly. "You work along Queensland six
years."
"Me fella missionary," the black interrupted with deliberate insolence.
"Queensland you stop jail one fella year. White fella master damn fool
no hang you. You too much bad fella. Queensland you stop jail six
months two fella time. Two fella time you steal. All right, you
missionary. You savvee one fella prayer?"
"Yes, me savvee prayer," was the reply.
"All right, then you pray now, short time little bit. You say one fella
prayer damn quick, then me kill you."
Sheldon held the rifle on him and waited. The black glanced around at
his fellows, but none moved to aid him. They were intent upon the
coming spectacle, staring fascinated at the white man with death in his
hands who stood alone on the great veranda. Sheldon has won, and he
knew it. Astoa changed his weight irresolutely from one foot to the
other. He looked at the white man, and saw his eyes gleaming level

along the sights.
"Astoa," Sheldon said, seizing the psychological moment, "I count
three fella time. Then I shoot you fella dead, good-bye, all finish you."
And Sheldon knew that when he had counted three he would drop him
in his tracks. The black knew it, too. That was why Sheldon did not
have to do it, for when he had counted one, Astoa reached out his hand
and took the whip. And right well Astoa laid on the whip, angered at
his fellows for not supporting him and venting his anger with every
stroke. From the veranda Sheldon egged him on to strike with strength,
till the two triced savages screamed and howled while the blood oozed
down their backs. The lesson was being well written in red.
When the last of the gang, including the two howling culprits, had
passed out through