Yellow faces gleamed faintly, bare heads bobbed, and men set down burdens, grunting.

Among the vanguard an angry voice scolded in a strange tongue.

"_Burra suar!_" it raged; then hailed imperiously, "_Ko hai ?_" Where the lanterns clustered brightest, an active little figure in white waved a helmet, crying,-- "On deck! Where the devil does Maurice Heywood live ?" "I'm up here," called that young man.
For reply, the stranger began to skip among his cohorts, jerking out his white legs like a dancing marionette.

Then, with a sudden drop-kick, he sent the helmet flickering high into the darkness over the wall.
"Here we come!" he shouted, in hilarious warning.

The squabbling retinue surged after him through the gate, and one by one the lanterns disappeared under the covered way.
"It's the captain!" laughed Heywood, in amazement.