A group of New Guinea boys busily engaged in cleaning pearl-shell,chattering the while, as they wield their knives, and show theirstrong, even teeth in frequent laughter. Fine, strapping, copper-coloured fellows, with great mops of hair dyed yellow. A white manleans against the door post, dreamily smoking; trying hard to think ofnothing and succeeding tolerably well. Beyond--is as fair a view ascould be seen anywhere in the thousands of miles of the longAustralian coast-line.It is the glorious winter weather of the southern tropic, and thedeep blue waters of the almost land-locked strait are rippling merrilyunder the breath of the steady south-east monsoon. The grey hills ofPrince of Wales Island stand out in striking contrast to the whitesands at their feet, and the entrance to the narrow passage separatingit from Friday Island is just visible, looking like the mouth of apicturesque inlet. White sails on the sea, white houses clusteringhere and there on the shore, make a scene gay with color and sparklingwith sunshine."The flag's up, Tom," says a voice; "she's just rounding GoodeIsland," and the speaker, approaching, lays his hand on the smoker'sshoulder."Heaps of time," returns Tom, knocking his pipe out; "but I suppose Imay as well get ready.""Take a turn on the beach first," replies the new-comer, "I havesomething more to tell you."They stroll on until they stand close to the lapping wavelets kissingthe shell-strewn strand, then Annett, a man some five or six yearsolder than his partner, Tom Duckworth, speaks: "The main thing, ofcourse, as you know, is to find out the whereabouts of Ras Mahad." Tomnodded. "Hillsden knows, but, if he won't tell, I don't exactly seehow you are to make him; that is, without letting him into ourconfidence, and he's too big a scamp for that. But we discussed allthis before. What I have to tell you is this. You remember the boyDjuran we picked up adrift on that proa, half--starved. He knows quiteas much about what we want to find out as Ras Mahad himself. Comesfrom the same place, probably a relation of some sort. I heard lastnight that he was on the nor'-west coast, and it's my belief that RasMahad is there too, so, if you can make nothing out of Hillsden whenyou're down, we'll go round there and see.""I don't see why Hillsden should refuse to tell me what he knows.""Simply because he is one of those suspicious, grasping rogues whowould immediately suspect that you had some ulterior motive in askingthe question."--"Which I have," interrupted Tom."True; but whether you had or not he would presume that you had, andtell you a lie on principle. It's one satisfaction to know that, ifyou get nothing out of him, he'll get nothing out of you."Tom smiled grimly; the reticence of his nature was well known inTorres' Strait."Here she comes round the point," went on Annett, "You'll go and seeRuth as soon as ever you get down;" and the two men turned back to thehotel.The E. and A. steamer slowed down and picked up the water-police boatwith the resident and customs-officer on board, then, after a briefinterval, went alongside the hulk, made fast, and immediately afurious blast on the whistle proclaimed the fact that she had no timeto waste at Thursday Island.The agent's boat, with its smart-looking coloured crew, had justreturned from the steamer and was waiting at the boat jetty when thepartners came down, both now dressed in immaculate white, the luggagewas put in and the two men were soon alongside the China boat. Fromthe greetings Tom received as he stepped on board, it was evident thathe was both well--known and well-liked. The cargo was rapidlytranshipped to the hulk, the third whistle blew, and with a warmhandshake the two men parted.