The negro, who, although comparatively short of stature, was herculean in build, looked at the youth with an amused expression.

“You’re bery good, sar, but da’s not what I’s t’inkin’ ob.  I’s t’inkin’ whedder I dar’ ventur’ to introdoce you to my massa.  He’s not fond o’ company, an’ it might make ’im angry, but he came by a heaby loss lately an’ p’raps he may cond’send to receibe you.  Anyhow you ’d be quite safe, for he’s sure to be civil to any friend ob mine.”

“Is he then so fierce?” asked Nigel, becoming interested as well as amused.

“Fierce! no, he’s gentle as a lamb, but he’s awrful when he’s roused—­tigers, crokindiles, ‘noceroses is nuffin’ to him!”

“Indeed! what’s his name, and what does he do?  How does he live?”

The negro shook his head.  “Da’s more’n I dar tell till I ax his leave, sar.  I kin only say de peepil around calls ’im the hermit ob Rakata, ’cause he libs by his self (wid me, ob course, but I counts for nuffin), close under de ole volcano ob Krakatoa.  Dey tink—­some ob de foolish peepil—­dat he hab sold his-self to de dibil, but I knows better.  He’s a good man, and you’d hab great fun if you stop wid him.  Now, what I’s a-gwine to advise you is, come wid me an’ see de hermit.  If he lets you stop, good.  If not, I fetch you ober to de main land—­whar you please—­an’ you kin come back here or go whar you choose.  Its wort’ your while to take your chance, anyhow.”

The negro said this with such an earnest look that Nigel made up his mind on the spot to accept this curious invitation.

“I’ll go!” he exclaimed with sudden energy.  “When do you start?”

“To-morrer at daybreak, sar.”

“Well, I shall have to talk it over first with my father, but I’m sure he won’t object, so you may look out for me here at daybreak.  Shall I have to fetch any provisions with me for the voyage?”

“No, nuffin’.  Boat’s crammed wi’ grub.  But you’d better bring a gun o’ some sort an’ a ‘volver, an’ a big knife, an’ a mortal big appetite, for a man’s no good widout dat.”

“I always carry that about with me,” said the youth, “whatever else I may leave behind; and I’ll see to the other things.—­By the way, what’s your name?”

“Moses.”

“Is that all?”

“Isn’t dat enuff?” returned the negro with a look of dignity.

“Quite; but I have the advantage of you there, Moses, for I have two names—­Nigel Roy.”

“Well, I don’t see much use ob two, but which does you like to be called by—­Nadgel or Roy?”

“Whichever you please, Moses; I’ll answer to either.  So now, good-bye for the present, and look out for me to-morrow at daylight.”

“Good-bye, Massa Nadgel, till to-morrer.”

The negro waved his hand and, sauntering slowly back to his boat, remarked in an undertone, “I lub dat young feller!” Saying which, he resumed his greasing operations.