Somebody had to pay for the six quarts, which, multiplied by thirty, amounted to a tidy sum in the course of the month; and, since that man was Dag Daughtry, he found it necessary to pass Michael inboard on the _Makambo_ through a starboard port-hole.
On the beach, that night at Tulagi, vainly wondering what had become of the whaleboat, Michael had met the squat, thick, hair-grizzled ship's steward.

The friendship between them was established almost instantly, for Michael, from a merry puppy, had matured into a merry dog.

Far beyond Jerry, was he a sociable good fellow, and this, despite the fact that he had known very few white men.

First, there had been Mister Haggin, Derby and Bob, of Meringe; next, Captain Kellar and Captain Kellar's mate of the _Eugenie_; and, finally, Harley Kennan and the officers of the _Ariel_.

Without exception, he had found them all different, and delightfully different, from the hordes of blacks he had been taught to despise and to lord it over.
And Dag Daughtry had proved no exception from his first greeting of "Hello, you white man's dog, what 'r' you doin' herein nigger country ?" Michael had responded coyly with an assumption of dignified aloofness that was given the lie by the eager tilt of his ears and the good-humour that shone in his eyes.