“They don’t think much of consuls in Opeki,” said Stedman, doubtfully.  “You see the last one was a pretty poor sort.  He brought the office into disrepute, and it wasn’t really until I came and told them what a fine country the United States was, that they had any opinion of it at all.  Now we must change all that.”

“That is just what we will do,” said Albert.  “We will transform Opeki into a powerful and beautiful city.  We will make these people work.  They must put up a palace for the King, and lay out streets, and build wharves, and drain the town properly, and light it.  I haven’t seen this patent lighting apparatus of yours, but you had better get to work at it at once, and I’ll persuade the King to appoint you commissioner of highways and gas, with authority to make his people toil.  And I,” he cried, in free enthusiasm, “will organize a navy and a standing army.  Only,” he added, with a relapse of interest, “there isn’t anybody to fight.”

“There isn’t?” said Stedman, grimly, with a scornful smile.  “You just go hunt up old Messenwah and the Hillmen with your standing army once and you’ll get all the fighting you want.”

“The Hillmen?” said Albert.

“The Hillmen are the natives that live up there in the hills,” Stedman said, nodding his head toward the three high mountains at the other end of the island, that stood out blackly against the purple, moonlit sky.  “There are nearly as many of them as there are Opekians, and they hunt and fight for a living and for the pleasure of it.  They have an old rascal named Messenwah for a king, and they come down here about once every three months, and tear things up.”

Albert sprang to his feet.

“Oh, they do, do they?” he said, staring up at the mountain-tops.  “They come down here and tear up things, do they?  Well, I think we’ll stop that, I think we’ll stop that!  I, don’t care how many there are.  I’ll get the two Bradleys to tell me all they know about drilling, to-morrow morning, and we’ll drill these Opekians, and have sham battles, and attacks, and repulses, until I make a lot of wild, howling Zulus out of them.  And when the Hillmen come down to pay their quarterly visit, they’ll go back again on a run.  At least some of them will,” he added, ferociously.  “Some of them will stay right here.”

“Dear me, dear me!” said Stedman, with awe; “you are a born fighter, aren’t you?”

“Well, you wait and see,” said Gordon; “maybe I am.  I haven’t studied tactics of war and the history of battles, so that I might be a great war correspondent, without learning something.  And there is only one king on this island, and that is old Ollypybus himself.  And I’ll go over and have a talk with him about it to-morrow.”

Young Stedman walked up and down the length of the veranda, in and out of the moonlight, with his hands in his pockets, and his head on his chest.  “You have me all stirred up, Gordon,” he said; “you seem so confident and bold, and you’re not so much older than I am, either.”