“Won’t you try?” asked the girl.  “For my sake?”

“Go to’t,” returned the mucker cheerfully; “I’d even wear side whiskers fer youse.”

“Horrors!” exclaimed Barbara Harding.  “I couldn’t look at you if you did.”

“Well, then, tell me wot youse do want me to do.”

Barbara discovered that her task was to be a difficult one if she were to accomplish it without wounding the man’s feelings; but she determined to strike while the iron was hot and risk offending him—­why she should be interested in the regeneration of Mr. Billy Byrne it never once occurred to her to ask herself.  She hesitated a moment before speaking.

“One of the first things you must do, Mr. Byrne,” she said, “is to learn to speak correctly.  You mustn’t say ‘youse’ for ‘you,’ or ‘wot’ for ’what’—–­you must try to talk as I talk.  No one in the world speaks any language faultlessly, but there are certain more or less obvious irregularities of grammar and pronunciation that are particularly distasteful to people of refinement, and which are easy to guard against if one be careful.”

“All right,” said Billy Byrne, “youse—­you kin pitch in an’ learn me wot—­whatever you want to an’ I’ll do me best to talk like a dude—­fer your sake.”

And so the mucker’s education commenced, and as there was little else for the two to do it progressed rapidly, for once started the man grew keenly interested, spurred on by the evident pleasure which his self-appointed tutor took in his progress—­further it meant just so much more of close companionship with her.

For three weeks they never left the little island except to gather fruit which grew hard by on the adjacent mainland.  Byrne’s wounds had troubled him considerably—­at times he had been threatened with blood poisoning.  His temperature had mounted once to alarming heights, and for a whole night Barbara Harding had sat beside him bathing his forehead and easing his sufferings as far as it lay within her power to do; but at last the wonderful vitality of the man had saved him.  He was much weakened though and neither of them had thought it safe to attempt to seek the coast until he had fully regained his old-time strength.

So far but little had occurred to give them alarm.  Twice they had seen natives on the mainland—­evidently hunting parties; but no sign of pursuit had developed.  Those whom they had seen had been pure-blood Malays—­there had been no samurai among them; but their savage, warlike appearance had warned the two against revealing their presence.

They had subsisted upon fish and fruit principally since they had come to the island.  Occasionally this diet had been relieved by messes of wild fowl and fox that Byrne had been successful in snaring with a primitive trap of his own invention; but lately the prey had become wary, and even the fish seemed less plentiful.  After two days of fruit diet, Byrne announced his intention of undertaking a hunting trip upon the mainland.