“All right,” Fred answered.  “The map, then—­what about it?”

“Take me with you and the map is yours!”

“Show it to me, then!”

“I must have a share of the ivory!”

“Show me the map first!”

Coutlass searched inside his flannel shirt—­swiftly—­more swiftly—­angrily.  His jaw dropped.  Even between the fire-light and the moonlight one could judge that his color changed—­and changed again.

“Show me the map before we bargain!” Fred insisted.  “Hurry, man!  There’s Mr. Yerkes with the canoe.  We can’t wait here all night!”

“It is gone!” admitted Coutlass.  “Some one stole it!”

“I could have told you that in the first place,” Fred informed him, rising to his feet.  “I have the map in my pocket.”

“You stole it?” Coutlass gasped.

“Certainly not.  Rebecca stole it while she was supposed to be sleeping in your arms!”

“Gassharamminy!  I might have known it!  Those Syrians—­she meant to give us all the slip and find the ivory herself!”

“Nothing of the Sort!” said Fred.  “She stole it from you, to give it to Lady Saffren Waldon!  Kazimoto saw her do it—­saw where Lady Waldon hid it—­and stole it from her while she slept to give to me, believing it to be something of mine.  Here it is!”

Fred let the end of a folded map protrude from his inner pocket just far enough for Coutlass to recognize it by the fire-light.  The Greek turned on his heel.

“All right!” be said ruefully, swinging suddenly round again.  “If you were alone I would fight you, my knife against your rifle!  I can not fight all four of you!  Go away then, and be damned!  I have nothing to offer.  There is nothing I can do.  Leave me, and I will look after myself!”

“Now you’re talking like a man.” said Fred.

“Leave me that woman of yours, and go to hell, all of you!” laughed the Greek.

Fred seemed suddenly possessed of a bright idea.  He turned to the woman and beckoned her to rise.  Then in unmistakable pantomime he went through the motions of presenting her to Coutlass.  The woman gasped—­stammered something that was positively not consent—­stared with frightened eyes at Coutlass—­shook her shaven head violently—­and ran away into the darkness, pursued by roars of laughter that speeded her on her way.

“A clear case of desertion!” announced Fred judicially.  “You men are witnesses!” Then he turned once more to Coutlass.  “I don’t think we’ll leave you to raise Cain on this island.  It depends on you whether we find you a lonelier island—­turn you loose or hand you over to the authorities in British East!”

“Good!” Coutlass shouted.  “By Jingo, you are a gentleman!  You are the best man in the world!  I will treat you as my brother!”

“Thanks!” said Fred dryly.