"Very well, then. Quexo, take this keg of flour down to the beach, and tell that white man that his people can gather as much taro and cocoanuts as they want, so long as they don't cross to this side of the stream. You understand? Do you think we might spare Blight a lamb, Andy?"
"I think so, pater. We've twenty at least."
"Then tell Quexo to take one down when he comes back. Now, boys, if we are going on this trip, we had better make preparations. We ought to start by sunrise at least, if we want to reach Ahii before dark."
"But are we going straight to Ahii?"
"No, by Jove! I forgot that for the moment. Of course, it will be much better to spend the night off Ni Atong—I suppose there's a lagoon—and proceed to Ahii on the following morning."
"Well, Quexo," said Andy, on the mulatto's return, "what did the white man say?"
"He say: 'Come here you number one size blackamoor. What your massa name is?' An' I say: 'I no number one size blackamoor; I no niggah, sah; an' my massa name me no give, massa he tell you his name if you ask.'"
"That's a smart reply, Quexo," replied Mr. McKay, laughing. "There's nothing like keeping your master's counsel and your own. Now take that carcase down to the beach. Ellerton, you might take a stroll along the edge of the cliff and, without attracting undue attention, keep an eye on the rascals. I don't want them straggling across the stream."
Thus bidden, Ellerton walked cautiously to the edge of the first terrace, then laying his rifle on the ground, stretched himself into a comfortable position so that he could see without being seen, and hear without being heard.
Most of the natives had dispersed, and were busily engaged in seeking taro and cocoanuts, although they kept strictly within the bounds laid down by Mr. McKay.