“Now then, Stedman, be quick,” he said.  “Explain to them what this means; tell them that I will protect them; that I am anxious to see that Ollypybus is not cheated; that we will do all we can for them.”

Outside, on the shore, a second boat’s crew had landed a group of officers and a file of marines.  They walked in all the dignity of full dress across the plaza to the flag-pole, and formed in line on the three sides of it, with the marines facing the sea.  The officers, from the captain with a prayer-book in his hand, to the youngest middy, were as indifferent to the frightened natives about them as the other men had been.  The natives, awed and afraid, crouched back among their huts, the marines and the sailors kept their eyes front, and the German captain opened his prayer-book.  The debate in the bungalow was over.

“If you only had your uniform, sir,” said Bradley, Sr., miserably.

“This is a little bit too serious for uniforms and bicycle medals,” said Gordon.  “And these men are used to gold lace.”

He pushed his way through the natives, and stepped confidently across the plaza.  The youngest middy saw him coming, and nudged the one next him with his elbow, and he nudged the next, but none of the officers moved, because the captain had begun to read.

“One minute, please,” called Gordon.

He stepped out into the hollow square formed by the marines, and raised his helmet to the captain.

“Do you speak English or French?” Gordon said in French; “I do not understand German.”

The captain lowered the book in his hands and gazed reflectively at Gordon through his spectacles, and made no reply.

“If I understand this,” said the younger man, trying to be very impressive and polite, “you are laying claim to this land, in behalf of the German Government.”

The captain continued to observe him thoughtfully, and then said, “That is so,” and then asked, “Who are you?”

“I represent the King of this island, Ollypybus, whose people you see around you.  I also represent the United States Government, that does not tolerate a foreign power near her coast, since the days of President Monroe and before.  The treaty you have made with Messenwah is an absurdity.  There is only one king with whom to treat, and he—­”

The captain turned to one of his officers and said something, and then, after giving another curious glance at Gordon, raised his book and continued reading, in a deep, unruffled monotone.  The officer whispered an order, and two of the marines stepped out of line, and dropping the muzzles of their muskets, pushed Gordon back out of the enclosure, and left him there with his lips white, and trembling all over with indignation.  He would have liked to have rushed back into the lines and broken the captain’s spectacles over his sun-tanned nose and cheeks, but he was quite sure this would only result in his getting shot, or in