lives here and we go harpooning to-night. You must pay me now.'
'I have no right to pay you. You were coming, and you said I might steer. And how shall I get back without the felucca? You will let me have the felucca at least? I can manage her all alone quite well.'
'Eh, eh, Musoncella!' grinned the old man, 'you will not pay for the voyage here, and you think I shall trust you with my boat? I go out in her to-night myself; that is why I came. Pay me now, or I will make it worse for you; and if I call a guard, then I shall know where you really live, for it is my belief———'
'What will content you?' she said in desperation, feeling her cheeks grow cold with fear.
'Pay him nothing,' said a voice behind her, and turning she saw the face of Daniello Villamagna, the Sicilian skipper. 'Pay him nothing, and let him stay here with his cockle-shell. The "Ausiliatrice" will land you where you will.'
'Oh, I was only joking,' said the old sailor, for he knew the skipper of the 'Ausiliatrice,' and knew his tongue was hot and his knife not very slow to back up what
