"I've been trying a long time to remember, Mackay, where I met you before, and now I've got it. There couldn't be another phiz like yours in the whole of this wretched planet."
"I ken my personal adornments are a rare gift," placidly returned the Scot, "and, to return the compliment, I may say I've never been surprised at your many marvellous escapes from the New Guinean cannibals."
"And why so?" queried Carew, much pleased.
"Because a sicht o' your figure-head would destroy any nigger's appetite, an'——"
"I give you best, Mackay; I give you best," hastily interposed the other. "But weren't you with Bentley's Expedition in New Guinea four years ago? Oh, I'm sure of you now. Where did you leave Bentley?"
By this time they were snugly ensconced in a corner of the smoke-room. Mackay solemnly rang the bell.
"He went under on the last expedition in the West," he said grimly, when the steward had attended to their requests,—"I was the only one that escaped."
Carew gave a cry of genuine pain. "Poor Bentley," he muttered brokenly, "another one gone in that accursed country, and I never knew. We pioneers don't get much of an obituary notice, Mackay."
Mackay silently agreed. "Don't speak about it before these youngsters of mine," he said. "They're going out to the West with me, and I don't want them to be discouraged."
He rose to go, but just then Bob appeared. "There's a small island on the port bow, Mackay," he announced. "Can you tell me anything about it? I can't find it on the chart."