"Yes! Chakawana tell him what the pries' say 'bout woman what don' marry. My sister say she go to hell herself and don' care a damn, but it ain't right for little baby to go to hell too." "What do you mean by that?" asked Mr. Wayland. "The Father say if white man take Indian woman and don' marry her, she go to hell for thousan' year--mebbe two, three thousan' year. Anyhow, she don' never see Jesus' House. That's bad thing!" The breed shook his head seriously. "Chakawana she's good girl, and she go to church; I give money to the pries' too, plenty money every time, but he says that's no good--she's got to be marry or she'll burn for always with little baby. By God! that's make her scare', because little baby ain't do nothing to burn that way. Mr. Marsh he say it's all damn lie, and he don't care if little baby do go to hell. You hear that? He don't care for little baby." Constantine's eyes were full of tears as he strove laboriously to voice his religious teachings. He went on with growing agitation: "Chakawana she's mighty scare' of that bad place, and she ask Mr. Marsh again to marry her, but he beat her. That's when I try to kill him. Mebbe Mr. Emerson ain't come so quick, Mr. Marsh go to hell himself." Wayne Wayland turned upon Marsh. "Why don't you say something?" "I told you the brat isn't mine!" he cried. "If it isn't Emerson's, it's Cherry Malotte's. They want money, but I won't be bled." "You marry my sister?" asked Constantine. "No!" snarled Willis Marsh. "You can all go to hell and take the child with you--" Without a single warning cry, the breed lunged swiftly; the others saw something gleam in his hand. Emerson jumped for him, and the three men went to the deck in a writhing tangle, sending the furniture spinning before them. Mildred screamed, the sailors rushed forward, pushing her aside and blotting out her view. The sudden violence of the assault had frightened her nearly out of her senses. She fled to her father, striving to hide her face against his breast, but something drew her eyes back to the spot where the men were clinched. She heard Boyd Emerson cry to the sailors: "Get out of the way! I've got him!" Then saw him locked in the Indian's arms. They had gained their feet now, and spun backward, bringing up against the yacht's cabin with a crash of shivering glass. A knife, wrenched from the breed's grasp, went whirling over the side into the sea. Cherry Malotte ran forward, and at her voice the savage ceased his struggles. Wayne Wayland loosed his daughter's hold and thrust his way in among the sailors, kneeling beside the man he had chosen for his son-in-law. Emerson joined him, then rose quickly, crying: "Is there a doctor among your party?" "Doctor Berry! Send for Berry! He's gone ashore!" exclaimed Mr. Wayland. "Quick! Somebody fetch Doctor Berry!" Boyd directed.