The development of the prison farm, the development of its Moro inmates, was Wade's life. "Lieutenant, I am glad you like it," he said simply. "It is home to me." The Governor had strolled out on the lawn for a lingering look around him. Returning to the veranda he eyed Wade and Bronner quizzically. "Each of you has too fine an establishment for the barren needs of bachelors. I wish you had more confidence in the blissful state of matrimony!" Wade shook his head decisively. The Major snorted. "Huh! No petticoats for mine!" A stolid Moro servant padded up with a tray bearing four cocktails: in a moment carried them kitchen-ward, rejected. The Governor laughed: "Not one in four! An unusual showing, Wade." He turned to Terry: "You never drink?" "I--I don't care for it, Governor." A pause, and he added, flushing slightly: "That was not quite honest, sir. I have never tried it." As they moved to the table the Governor exchanged a glance of delighted approval with the Major over the nice amend. The steady breeze off the Straits that blew across the veranda where they sat at dinner roused the sea into a little confusion of beach sounds. They ate leisurely, talking of the strange things of Sululand, talked as men do who find surpassing interest in the little and the big things of their work; and Terry listened as they deliberately drew him within their circle. It was a dinner deserving of the time given up to it. Following a vegetable soup the Moro bore in a great lapu-lapu, fresh from the Straits: if you have never tasted the flaky substance of a lapu-lapu,--don't! For once you do, you will be forever impatient of the quality of all other fish. Roast duck followed, with sweet corn, camotes, tart roselle sauce, a papaya salad, an ice, and pili nuts; all perfectly prepared, and flawlessly served by the expressionless Moro boy who moved noiselessly about the snowy table. "I want to brag a little, Governor," Wade said as he and the Major lighted cigars over a second cup of black coffee. "Everything we ate to-night--with the exception of such things as salt and pepper and cream,--was the product of this farm. You will be able to report at the end of the year that we are eighty per cent self-supporting." Pressed by the Governor, Wade explained to Terry his system of handling the six hundred Moro inmates. He stopped midway in a graphic account of three prisoners whom he had sent out with instructions to fetch in a runaway convict dead or alive. "I didn't ask you down here to talk you to death!" he apologized. "But what happened?" insisted the Major. "Did the three skip too?"