. His
lips were trembling like a child that is about to cry. Ned Austin made a
clatter in the ice-chest. He wasn't looking for anything. I don't think
he knew what he was doing. Nobody spoke. Harry Burnley's lips were
trembling harder than ever. Suddenly, with a most horrible, malignant
expression he drove his fist into Kaluna's face. He followed it up. We
made no attempt to separate them. We didn't care if he killed the half-
caste. It was a terrible beating. We weren't interested. I don't even
remember when Burnley ceased and let the poor devil crawl away. We were
all too dazed.

"Doc Strowbridge told me about it afterward. He was working late over a
report when Lyte came into his office. Lyte had already recovered his
optimism, and came swinging in, a trifle angry with Kaluna to be sure,
but very certain of himself. 'What could I do?' Doc asked me. 'I knew
he had it. I had seen it coming on for months. I couldn't answer him. I
couldn't say yes. I don't mind telling you I broke down and cried. He
pleaded for the bacteriological test. 'Snip out a piece, Doc,' he said,
over and over. 'Snip out a piece of skin and make the test.'"

"The way Doc Strowbridge cried must have convinced Lyte. The _Claudine_
was leaving next morning for Honolulu. We caught him when he was going
aboard. You see, he was headed for Honolulu to give himself up to the
Board of Health. We could do nothing with him. He had sent too many to
Molokai to hang back himself. We argued for Japan. But he wouldn't hear
of it. 'I've got to take my medicine, fellows,' was all he would say,
and he said it over and over. He was obsessed with the idea.

"He wound up all his affairs from the Receiving Station at Honolulu, and
went down to Molokai. He didn't get on well there. The resident
physician wrote us that he was a shadow of his old self. You see he was
grieving about his wife and the kids. He knew we were taking care of
them, but it hurt him just the same. After six months or so I went down
to Molokai. I sat on one side a plate-glass window, and he on the other.
We looked at each other through the glass and talked through what might
be called a speaking tube. But it was hopeless. He had made up his mind
to remain. Four mortal hours I argued. I was exhausted at the end. My
steamer was whistling for me, too.

"But we couldn't stand for it. Three months later we chartered the
schooner _Halcyon_. She was an opium