off the rail, and pull 'em down into the boat. The giant lowered his hook, grappled the Olga's steps, and made fast alongside. A slimmish white man, with a face like sun-cracked leather, marched up the steps. Cold blue eyes glinted underneath his helmet—Zack saw no mercy. This man took his stand at the head of those steps on a little platform overhanging the sea. Then he beckoned for his file of mulatto soldiers with red caps. Everything happened just as Guinea said. Two other white men climbed up the steps from the little boat, two men in white clothes and white helmets. That terrible Russian Captain didn't even try to stop them; 'peared to Zack like he was bluffed. The Captain took off his hat to one little fat fellow, and gave him a lot of papers. While they were reading those papers Zack made a sneak to the other side of the ship. Guinea was right again. Two barges had been made fast to the Olga; a long step-ladder reached down to their decks. A soldier stood guard on the top platform. Zack was almost scared to look for the fumigating boxes—there they were, right there, two of them, made of boards, exactly big enough for a man to stand up inside and get smothered.
The first-cabin white folks had assembled in the smoking room, where the fat doctor was call-
