The Kanaka was by no means an unwelcome member of the party. He had intelligence of an unusual order for his kind and displayed great ingenuity on occasions. What his age was neither Dave nor Tempest could determine, and Jim certainly did not know. Probably he was in the neighborhood of forty. He was not particularly communicative, but piece by piece the other two extracted some of his history. His early boyhood had been spent in the Sandwich Islands; but being by nature a roamer, he left there and became stranded at Tahiti, far to the south of Honolulu. He did not remain there long, however, moving from one place to another, sometimes as a sailor, sometimes picking up a scant subsistence as a fisherman, and sometimes living a life which was more than half savage. His knowledge of the islands in the South Seas was extensive and peculiar; and like Tempest, he had the trick of making himself completely at home wherever fate happened to set him down. “Have you ever been to Christmas Island?” Dave once asked him, wonderingly. “Lived there two summers,” Jim explained. “Nice place. Not many people.” “I should judge not,” Tempest commented. “Did you ever get to Fanning Island?” “Know um; not lived there,” the Kanaka said. “Ha! Ha! The plot thickens,” said Tempest. “You know some of the other islands round about there perhaps, eh?” “Some,” said Jim. “Lived in Philippines since then. Lot of years ago.” “It seems to me that Jim would be a mighty useful man to take along with us if ever we go hunting for your treasure-ship, Dave,” said Tempest. “He isn’t a bad old sort, and he might be able to pilot us around a bit.” “That’s a good idea,” the boy agreed. “I suppose we aren’t so very far off the place now, are we?” “No-o,” replied Tempest, “if you don’t reckon two or three thousand miles far, and add to that that we’re marooned on an island for an extremely indefinite period. Outside of that, you can fairly count on the treasure being ours and make a few inquiries as to to-day’s market price of platinum to see how much you’re worth.” “You’re laughing now,” Dave said, “but you won’t laugh once you see me sitting on the deck of the good ship _Hatteras_ counting up a fortune.” “She hasn’t any deck left. It’s all been washed away.” “How do you know? You haven’t seen it. Jim, are you coming with us to Christmas Island?” The Kanaka shrugged his shoulders. He thought it was some silly joke. “I expect we’ll have to bribe him,” Tempest said. “Jim, what would you like best of all in the world?”