"They're a nasty-looking lot," I whispered to Jim. "Let me fetch one or two of our fellows."

For answer he peered through the glass alongside of me. "Thirteen of 'em," he muttered. "And not one of 'em any use. Into it, my lad!" And opening the door he stepped inside. I followed quickly, and bolted the door behind me.

Good-evening, everybody," I heard him say, coolly.

No one spoke. You could have heard a pin drop. Thirteen pairs of eyes were riveted on the face of Jaloda Jim. Watching Besson closely, I saw a peculiar yellow shade spread gradually over his features, but he gave no sign that he had seen us. Mimi seemed frozen, now that the moment had come. Still no one spoke or made the slightest movement. Then Jim moved forward towards the bar.

"Good-evening, Mimi," he said. "Do you reckon to serve white Kaffirs in here?

For the space of a second Mimi stared at him as though he were mad. Then Jim repeated his question in Portuguese.

Came a sort of subdued murmur as the question drove home to the minds of the halfcastes. Nothing much, just as though the wind had ruffled

"Because if not," went on Jim-"if not "-and suddenly he placed himself directly in front of Besson-" what are you doing here?"

There was a gasp of indignation from the thirteen, a lightning movement of Besson's arms, a splintering of glass, a dull thud, and Jim-the red flaring strongly in his eyeswas standing over the crumpled body of Mr Besson. It had all happened so quickly that it was impossible to see exactly what had occurred. The thirteen shuffled their feet, and looked toward each other for guidance. I adopted a threatening attitude. Mimi stood paralysed behind the shelter of the bar.

Get out! came Jim's voice, with the cut of whiplash. "Get out-or get up!— just whichever you like."

Mr Besson moved cautiously, and adjusted his vision to the strange angle consequent upon his position. He shot an appealing glance towards the thirteen, but they appeared to be smitten with sudden blindness. His eye roved along the floor, but Jim had already kicked away the bottle that might have been of use to him. Finally, he stole an anxious glance at the man standing over him, and what he read in that tense face determined his instant course of action.

"I'll get," he muttered.

Disappointed, Jim stepped back. Slowly Mr Besson rose to his knees. Still keeping both hands on the floor he rose to one foot, and then, seeing that Jim made no movement, he stood upright. I saw him calculating the distance between himself and the door. Seven steps it would take him, and every step a step of defeat. The man had a soul-I saw it naked at that moment-but his courage was not high enough to carry it.

"I'll get!" he said again, and without a glance at his companions he walked swiftly to the door. He paused for a second to unbar it. It opened and closed, softly, and Besson was gone. The thirteen heaved a concerted sigh of relief. Mimi laughed shrilly, Jaloda Jim relaxed his strained attitude, and I called for two "Angel's Kisses." I felt like it.

Trade was brisk that night for Mimi, for Jaloda Jim went the round of the town and gathered up the person of every single Britisher he could find. In howling chorus he led them to Mimi's estaminet, for, said he, we must make things up to the child. She's been doing pretty badly since Besson started acting the knave in Beira. It's up to me to see that she suffers no loss."

During the long hours of that night I heard something of why the British element had forsaken Mimi during the recent crisis. It appeared that Besson was a man to be avoided like the plague. He was something

He

outside their calculation. was far and away too clever with an empty bottle, a method of settling disputes which made no appeal to their sense of sportsmanship. Jim's face grew dark as he heard the long tale of Besson's peccadilloes, and, so far at least as Mimi was concerned, the tale lost nothing in the telling.

"By the way," he asked, as we strolled home together in the early hours, "is there anything in the harbour?"

"The Margha, the B.I. boat, is anchored in the roadstead. Why?"

need not have troubled myself to be facetious, for Jaloda Jim was already striding away in the direction of the Vienna Hotel.

There was very little of the night left by this time, and I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes when my boy roused me for my morning tea. It was six o'clock, and dressing hastily, I left the Savoy and walked over to the Vienna. They were just putting the miniature orange-trees outside when I arrived, and in reply to my inquiry for Baas Jim, informed me that he was at that moment having breakfast. To my eternal surprise who should be sitting opposite him but Mr Besson, whose face, I instantly noted, was decorated by a multi-coloured eye and a remarkably swollen jaw.

"Ha!" cried Jim as he saw me in the doorway. "The very man! Slip along to the B.I. offices and book a saloon passage to Cape Town. Mr Besson is going home in the Margha."

found myself wondering how any man could allow himself to be turned out of a country by a totally unofficial person; but Besson knew his own business best, and I did not know what had occurred had occurred at the Vienna during the early hours of that morning. The swollen eye and the scar on his jaw might, or might not, have been the result of the previous night's fracas.

"You've got enough money for the voyage?" asked Jim again, solicitously.

Besson nodded, still in that same dazed way.

"And you'll never come back up this way again?" "Never! " There was a strangely emphatic note in Besson's voice.

"Right you are, then! Good

bye."

out.

"Is he?

over the ship's rail to where

An hour later we three stood on the wet deck of the Margha. The packing had been swift, the passage to the ship even swifter.

"I hope you have a decent trip," Jim was saying, in the tones he would have used to his best friend.

Besson looked along the decks in a curiously dazed manner. I

white against their background of green palms. What was going through his mind I could give not the slightest suggestion, until, with a sudden movement, he turned back to us. Then I saw that he was the old Besson we had encountered

up the "construction.' His face was flushed, and there was an ugly gleam in his dark eyes-a gleam of rage, of baffled

rage. For a second he stood scowling. And then

"Good-bye, Jaloda Jim," he sneered. And damn you for the great brute you are!"

66 And that's that!" was Jim's only comment as he watched Besson running down the companion-way to his cabin. "That's the end of him!"

"Visitors off the ship! roared the quartermaster, and we two passed down the gangway to our boat. A few seconds later the Margha's syren woke the echoes across the bay; the ball went up on the Customs House; came a clattering of winches from above us; and she was away, tightening up her muddy anchors as she

went.

"How did you persuade him to go?" I asked, as soon as we were out of the Margha's backwash.

Jaloda Jim was still staring at the foam-flecked heel of her. "There's a lot of romance in these waters, you know," he muttered, vaguely. "Old Solomon's galleys must have anchored here when they came for the gold from the Sofala mines."

"I suppose they did," I broke in impatiently. 'But how did you persuade Besson to"

"And I'll bet it's seen some queer sights since then! Galleys for gold and galleys for slaves. Old Vasco da Gama and all his crew

"I don't mind telling you that that's my trouble," confessed Jim. "I feel like bursting into tears or writing a letter to the old pater-I don't know which."

66

"Better do the latter," I suggested. 'You can tell him that you are still King of Portuguese East!"

Jaloda Jim looked at me suspiciously, but I retained my innocent expression until his eyes drifted seaward to where the Margha, a black smudge against the opal horizon, appeared to be hanging 'twixt sea and sky. In silence we watched her out of sight, and as she disappeared, a certain old phrase shot through my memory.

"So perish all traitors!" I proclaimed, softly, as our boat touched the steps of the quay.

AFTER a series of earthquakes of varying intensity, Mauna Loa broke into eruption on the night of 9th-10th April. The glow in the sky was first seen about three o'clock on the morning of the 10th from Hilo Harbour. This was accompanied by a rapid rise and fall to the extent of four feet in the waters of the bay; and simultaneously avalanches of rock and earth were recorded in the Halemaumau Pit of the Kilauea Volcano, which has the largest active crater in the world.

Eruptions in one form or another had been expected for some time, particularly by the native Hawaiians, and the prevalent belief was that any volcanic outbreak would occur in Halemaumau. As the seat of the activity was remote, a day elapsed before the exact location was traced to five fountains in a rift some miles long to the south of the summit of Mauna Loa at an elevation of 11,000 feet. Activity at this point appears to have lasted for only a few hours, emerging subsequently at an elevation of 8000 feet, close to the source of the Alika flow of 1919, and resolving into two flows, one moving very slowly to the south, and the other more rapidly to the southwest. It was the latter flow

that crossed the government road some miles lower down after tearing its way through valuable ranch pastures and the lower-lying forests.

The writer first saw the flow at three o'clock on the morning of 17th April. By then it had crossed the government road about thirty miles from its source at Papa.

We could see the glow in the sky seventy miles away as we we approached in a motorcar from the south-east past the dormant Kilauea Volcano. The moon had already set, but flashing stars hung low in a clear sky, and the Southern Cross blazed in all its tropical brilliance. At that altitude (over 4000 feet) the cold was bitter. As we drew nearer the ruddy glow appeared to change from a mere rosy point of light to a fiery glare against which the south-western slopes of Mauna Loa were silhouetted blackly, while a cloud of smoke hanging low over the blaze reflected the light of the burning embers. The light, although bright, changed little during the last few miles, but we were suddenly assailed by gusts of hot dusty air smelling strongly of sulphur, and slightly pungent. Rounding a corner sharply, we narrowly escaped collision with a weary traffic cop, and found ourselves head