"Not to-night, Ching," said Barkins decisively. "Come along, lads. I'm afraid," he continued, as we strolled right forward, "that some of us would soon be pretty sick of it if he did begin that precious howling. But I say, we ought to look after him well, poor old chap; it's precious rough on him to be taken out to sea like this." "Yes," I said; "and he behaved like a trump to us to-day." "That he did," assented Smith, as all three rested our arms on the rail, and looked at the twinkling distant lights of the shore. "You give Ching flee dollar," said a voice close behind us, and we started round, to find that the object of our conversation had come up silently in his thick, softly-soled boots, in which his tight black trouser bottoms were tucked. "Three dollars!" cried Smith; "what for?" "Say all give Ching dollar show way." "So we did," cried Barkins. "I'd forgotten all about it." "So had I." "But you got us nearly killed," protested Smith. "That was all in the bargain," cried Barkins. "Well, I say he came out well, and I shall give him two dollars, though I am getting precious short." "Flee dollar," said Ching firmly. Then, shaking his head, he counted upon his fingers, "One, two, flee." "It's all right, Ching," I said. "Two dollars apiece. Come on, Blacksmith." I took out my two dollars. "Come, Tanner." "No, no," cried Ching; "tanner tickpence; two dollar tickpence won't do. Flee dollar." "It's all right," I said, and I held out my hand for my messmates' contributions, afterward placing the six dollars in the Chinaman's hand. His long-nailed fingers closed over the double amount, and he looked from one to the other as if he did not comprehend. Then he unwillingly divided the sum. "No light," he said. "Flee dollar." "The other for the fight," I said, feeling pleased to have met a Chinaman who was not dishonest and grasping. "You wantee 'nother fight morrow?" he said, looking at me sharply. "Don't know. Not aflaid." "No, no; you don't understand," I cried, laughing. "We give you six dollars instead of three." Ching nodded, and the silver money disappeared up his sleeve. Then his body writhed a little, and the arm and hand appeared again in the loose sleeve. "Sailor boy 'teal Ching dollar?" "Oh no," I said confidently. "No pullee tail?" "Ah, that I can't answer for," I said. "Twist it up tightly." "To be sure," said Barkins. "It don't do to put temptation in the poor fellows' way. I'm afraid," he continued, "that if I saw that hanging out of a hammock I should be obliged to have a tug." Ching nodded, and stole away again into the darkness, for night had fallen now, and we were beginning to feel the waves dancing under us.