"Blotchy faces? Wall, I should gamble," drawled Broncho. "Why, their physio'nomies is cut up in black an' yellow squares like a checker-board, an' may I be locoed if the one without a sombrero ain't scalped." "Stickin'-plaster, p'r'aps," suggested Jim, "some whale they've been scrappin' with done it." "Something's queer aboard," mused Jack. "Those are the two scattermouches we saw this morning. Query, where's the rest of the crowd? South Sea whalers carry a big crew." "Stand your hands thar, boys; thar's somethin' wrong on that packet or I'm a jack-rabbit. Seems to me we're prancin' down too rapid an' heedless on that ere outfit. We're liable to overplay our hands if we don't go some slower," said Broncho solemnly, as with knit eyebrows he watched the nearing whaleship. "Maybe it's the phantom ship or the haunted whaler, _quien sabe_?" remarked Jack. "Anyhow, it's better than cruising off the Horn in a life-buoy. _Que quieres hombre_, Broncho--cross the road and let 'em go by, or politely inquire if they've got measles aboard?" "That's all right, that'll go for humour this time," retorted Broncho, with keen irony. "S'pose they have got somethin'," put in Jim. "Berri-berri, or scurvy, or Java fever----" "Go it, Jim," laughed the rover. "What else? Plague, eh? And leprosy? Or I have it--Yellow Jack, of course; that would account for the yellow, blotchy faces." "I ain't s'picious o' no malady," asserted Broncho. "No, it's ambushes or some sech cawpse-makin' plays I'm some doobersome of; an' I'm allowin' we-alls had better have our bowies out when we meets up with them speckled parties. They shore looks to me like redskins painted for war." "Why, they're Kanakas!" declared Jack, as they got nearer. "What breed o' dawg are Kanakas?" asked Broncho. "South Sea Islanders." "Cannibals!" gasped Jim. "I see our finish." "Long pig, eh, Jim?" laughed the rover. "Them cannibals is some like redskins, ain't they?" inquired Broncho, taking no notice of Jack's levity. "Cold an' p'isonous as rattlesnakes, an' the way they've daubed themselves shows they're plumb ready for the thunderbolt of war." "Tattooing," explained Jack; and as soon as they were close enough he sang out, "Ship ahoy!" One of the Kanakas waved his arm, but the other jumped up and down, evidently very excited, and gave vent to the most weird cries. "He's throwin' off some mighty high-flung whoops. What's that ghost-dance he's evolvin' thar? Do you savvy, Jack, if that's his wardance?" inquired the cowboy. "Oh, Lord!" groaned poor Jim dismally. "Here we are right into a horde of man-eatin' savages." "Stick your spurs in, sonny, an' we'll stampede right over 'em on the top of the next wave, so as they won't know if it's a landslide or a cloud-burst that devastates 'em," said Broncho heartily. "Stand by to heave us a rope," hailed Jack again. The silent one waved, then disappeared, and presently bobbed up above the rail with a coil of harpoon-line in his hand.