in his hand, when a black at the edge of the compound attracted his attention. It was Peter Pan, and Keith beckoned him.
"Big Marster Trent he plenty too much sick," the man announced.
"Where is he?" asked Joan quickly.
Peter Pan pointed away to the east.
"Come on," said Keith to the girl; and they left their desolated home, Peter Pan leading the way. For a hundred yards he walked through the groves and then struck off into a patch of rough ground which remained in its virgin state. There, just within a fringe of bushes, lay the planter. For a moment the girl feared he was dead, and fell on her knees by his side, but to her joy he moved his lips.
"Water!" he murmured.
Keith picked the man up in his arms gently.
"Let's get back to the house," he said. "We can't do anything here."
Chester was no light weight, but the sailor never faltered under his burden until he had deposited the planter on what remained of his bed. There was a large abrasion on the side of his head, where a heavy blow had been struck, and his hair was matted. After holding a glass of water to her brother's lips and having the satisfaction of seeing him drink a little, Joan bathed the wound. Soon after the patient opened his eyes. After looking at them both
