Curley stood with an expression of wooden-headed, abject innocence on his big, broad face, and looked straight in front of him.

“He certainly is sick, sir,” he remarked.

“Sick.  Good heavens!  The dog’s turning himself inside out!  That’s the last time a thing like this happens; he’s the last dog I ever take on a cruise.  Take him away at once!  Bosun—­call some one to wipe up that disgusting mess!”

“Take him ashore, did you say, sir?”

“Take him out of this!  Take him anywhere you like!  Yes, take him ashore and lose him—­feed him to the sharks—­give him to the Arabs—­ take him away, that’s all!”

“Me and Byng, sir?”

“Yes, you and Byng!  Did you hear me tell you to take him away?”

“Very good, sir; thank you!”

Curley Crothers saluted without the vestige of a smile, and hurried off before the dog could show too early signs of recovering health and strength or the commander could change his mind.

“Come on, Scamp,” he whispered.  “That was nothing but a temporary disaccommodation to your tummy, doglums; we’ll soon have you to rights again.”

He dived into the fo’castle with the dog behind him, and there were those who noticed that the terrier’s whip-like tail no longer hugged his stomach, but was waving to the world at large.

And thirty minutes later, as the Puncher’s launch put off with Curley and Joe Byng comfortably seated in the stern, it was obvious to any one who cared to look that Scamp was the happiest and healthiest terrier in Asia.

“Now, I wonder what they did to him,” mused the Puncher’s commander, watching from beneath his awning.  “Those two men live up to the name they brought aboard!  I believe they’d find means and a good excuse for walking to windward of a First Sea Lord!”

III.

Now an Arab would as soon allow a dog to lick his face as he would think of eating pork in public with his women folk; so the bearded, hook-nosed believers in the Prophet who looked down from the rock wall that lines one side of Adra knew what to think of Curley and his friend Joe Byng long before either of them realized that they were being watched.

Arrayed from head to ankles in spotless white, their black boots looking blacker by comparison, they proceeded in the general direction of the distant village, with the order and decorum of sea lords descending on a dockyard for inspection purposes.  The trackless sand proved hot and sharp; the dog proved in poor condition from the voyage and the morning’s incidental martyrdom, and Byng was generous-hearted.  He picked up the dog and carried him; and Scamp displayed his gratitude in customary canine way.

The comments of the watching Arabs would not fit into any story in the world, and it is quite as well that Crothers and Joe Byng did not hear them and could not have translated them, for in the other case trouble would have started even sooner than it did.  As it was, they tumbled and maneuvered over unresisting sand through almost tangible stench to where a gap in the ragged wall did duty as a gate.  As they came nearer, a banner with the star and crescent was displayed from the wall-top, but no other sign was given that their coming was observed.