“Meanwhile, Logan and Johnstone had built a house ashore and hived half a hat full of pearls, and about this time the feeling came on Bone strong that Logan was going to jump. He didn’t know how, but he was sure in his mind that Logan was going to do Johnstone in for his share, seeing the amount of stuff they’d collected.
“‘You look out,’ says he, ‘never you be alone with that chap when no one’s looking, for it’s in my mind he’s going to scrag you.’
“‘There ain’t no harm in Logan,’ says he, ‘there’s not the kick of a flea in him; you mind your business,’ says he, ‘and I’ll tend to mine. Whach you want putting suspicions in chaps’ heads for?’ says he.
“‘Well, I’ve said what I’ve said,’ says Bone, ‘and I’m not going to say no more.’
“Meanwhile, those island bucks had got to fitting things together in their minds, and they’d got to connecting pearls with sticks of tobacco and trade goods, and they’d got to recognise Johnstone as boss and owner of the pearls and goods. They’d named Johnstone ‘the fat one’ and they’d labelled Logan ‘the one with teeth,’ and the specifications fitted, for Johnstone weighed all two hundred and fifty, and Logan was a dentist’s sign when the grin was on his face, which was frequent.
“And so things goes on, the Kanakas diving and bringing up shell and the trade goods sinking till soon there was scarcely none left to pay the divers, and level with that was the fac’ that they’d collared enough pearls to satisfy reasonable chaps.
“One day Bone comes back from the diving and there wasn’t any Johnstone.
“He wasn’t in the house nor anywhere in sight, and Logan was sitting mending a bag net by the door.
“‘How the —— do I know?’ says Logan. He was a most civil spoken chap as a rule, and as soon as he’d let that out of his head, Bone didn’t look round no more for Johnstone.
“He sat down and smoked a pipe, and fell to wondering when his turn would come. He had one thing fixed in his head, and that was the fact that if he let on to be suspicious old smiler would do him in. He’d be wanted to help work the schooner back to ’Frisco, and it was quite on the cards if he pretended to know nothing and suspec’ nothing he might get off with his life, but he was in a stew. My hat! that chap was in a stew. Living with a man-eating tiger at his elbow wouldn’t be worse, and that night, when no Johnstone turned up, he could no more sleep than a runnin’ dynamo driven by a ten thousand horse-power injin stoked by Satan.