ches, fruit
trees grew there, and there were eight or ten grass huts. But as soon as
I saw the inhabitants I knew what I'd struck. One sight of them was
enough."

"What did you do?" Ruth demanded breathlessly, listening, like any
Desdemona, appalled and fascinated.

"Nothing for me to do. Their leader was a kind old fellow, pretty far
gone, but he ruled like a king. He had discovered the little valley and
founded the settlement--all of which was against the law. But he had
guns, plenty of ammunition, and those Kanakas, trained to the shooting of
wild cattle and wild pig, were dead shots. No, there wasn't any running
away for Martin Eden. He stayed--for three months."

"But how did you escape?"

"I'd have been there yet, if it hadn't been for a girl there, a
half-Chinese, quarter-white, and quarter-Hawaiian. She was a beauty,
poor thing, and well educated. Her mother, in Honolulu, was worth a
million or so. Well, this girl got me away at last. Her mother financed
the settlement, you see, so the girl wasn't afraid of being punished for
letting me go. But she made me swear, first, never to reveal the hiding-
place; and I never have. This is the first time I have even mentioned
it. The girl had just the first signs of leprosy. The fingers of her
right hand were slightly twisted, and there was a small spot on her arm.
That was all. I guess she is dead, now."

"But weren't you frightened? And weren't you glad to get away without
catching that dreadful disease?"

"Well," he confessed, "I was a bit shivery at first; but I got used to
it. I used to feel sorry for that poor girl, though. That made me
forget to be afraid. She was such a beauty, in spirit as well as in
appearance, and she was only slightly touched; yet she was doomed to lie
there, living the life of a primitive savage and rotting slowly away.
Leprosy is far more terrible than you can imagine it."

"Poor thing," Ruth murmured softly. "It's a wonder she let you get
away."

"How do you mean?" Martin asked unwittingly.

"Because she must have loved you," Ruth said, still softly. "Candidly,
now, didn't she?"

Martin's sunburn had been bleached by his work in the laundry and by the
indoor life he was living, while the hunger and the sickness had made his
face even pale; and across this pallor flowed the slow wave of a blush.
He was opening his mouth to speak, but Ruth shut him off.

"Never mind, don't answer; it's not necessary," she l