And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. There was no one to be seen. ‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. "Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. ” That simple statement of the case was by no means all that went on in Ann Veronica’s mind. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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