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cheek from below the eye to the lobe of the ear--but these he had received earlier

in the fracas. From crown to heel the man was a mass of blood. Through his

crimson mask he looked at the pile of bodies in the far end of the room, and a

broad grin cracked the dried blood about his mouth.

"Wot we done to dem Chinks was sure a plenty, kiddo," he remarked to Miss

Harding, and then he came to his feet, seemingly as strong as ever, shaking

himself like a great bull. "But I guess it's lucky youse butted in when you did, old

pot," he added, turning toward Theriere; "dey jest about had me down fer de long

count."

Barbara Harding was looking at the man in wide-eyed amazement. A moment

before she had been expecting him, momentarily, to breathe his last--now he was

standing before her talking as unconcernedly as though he had not received a

scratch--he seemed totally unaware of his wounds. At least he was entirely

indifferent to them.

"You're pretty badly hurt, old man," said Theriere. "Do you feel able to make the

attempt to get to the jungle? The Japs will be back in a moment."

Sure!" cried Billy Byrne. "Come ahead," and he sprang for the window. "Pass de

kid up to me. Quick! Dey're comin' from in back."

Theriere lifted Barbara Harding to the mucker who drew her through the opening.

Then Billy extended a hand to the Frenchman, and a moment later the three

stood together outside the hut.

A dozen samurai were running toward them from around the end of the "Palace."

The jungle lay a hundred yards across the clearing. There was no time to be lost.

"You go first with Miss Harding," cried Theriere. "I'll cover our retreat with my

revolver, following close behind you."

The mucker caught the girl in his arms, throwing her across his shoulder. The

blood from his wounds smeared her hands and clothing.

Hang tight, kiddo," he cried, and started at a brisk trot toward the forest.

Theriere kept close behind the two, reserving his fire until it could be effectively

delivered. With savage yells the samurai leaped after their escaping quarry. The

natives all carried the long, sharp spears of the aboriginal head-hunters. Their

swords swung in their harness, and their ancient armor clanked as they ran.

It was a strange, weird picture that the oddly contrasted party presented as they

raced across the clearing of this forgotten isle toward a jungle as primitive as

The Mucker