sing, that he
went on.

"You're smart. I don't say a Kanaka can't be smart when he wants to hide
anything. He can. I ain't figgered you yet. And that's a mighty healthy
thing for you, my boy, d'y' see? Because, if I could once make sure it
was you I saw slipping away by the chapel hedge two nights ago, I'd--" A
purplish haze suffused his cheek. "I'd dig the heart out of your carcass
with my two hands," he ended, very quietly, and hit the table so that
it jumped. "Was it?" he roared.

"No-o, Mahrster," said Motauri.

"You lie--blast you--it was!"

"No, Mahrster."

"Was it you that's been hanging around that white fella girl b'long
missionary--that's dared lift your dog's eyes to her?"

He crouched like a beast, ferine--all the obscure and diabolic passion
of him ready to spring.

"No, Mahrster."

Gregson glared at him steadily.

"What did you want of that boat?"

"Me like'm go fish," said Motauri.

The trader sat back again, plying his billowy silk handkerchief.

"The trouble with me--" he said, reflectively, "I can't believe my own
eyes; that's the trouble with me. And how could I believe 'em?" he
inquired, with almost a plaintive note. "Such things don't happen. They
can't. Why--what kind of a man are you? Black, I believe--leastways
brown. And she--_she_--

"A Kanaka. If not you, then another. A Kanaka! To know her, be near
her--touch her--play all manner of pretty, cuddlin' tricks around
her--to--to kiss her, maybe! To crush her up in his arms--!" The words
came away from him hot and slow, from under half-shut eyes. "And I've
sat here behind them slats and watched her go by and wished I might
crawl where her little feet could walk on me....

"How should one of your sort have the cursed impudence to think of such
things? What have you got to do with heaven? Could _you_ see anything in
that blind-like look sideways--and hair so smooth over the ear? Do you
know what level eyebrows and a fullish underlip mean--hey? Do you? A
lip like a drop of blood--

"What did you want that boat for?" he cried, in a terrible voice.

"Me like'm go fish," said Motauri.

"I tell you one thing, you don't leave here till I'm sure. There's
something rotten going on. I smell it. I'm on the track, and I'll never
give up--never give up. Right now I've got the mission path watched by
my own men. Nobody gets up or down without my knowing it--to-night or
ever. D'y' mind that, before I screw the thumbs off you to make you
ta