unyan got to do with my business?" he asked. "I came to sign
you up for a mate's job on _The Waif_, and I am in a hurry."

"Yes, I know," I grumbled, "but I thought you might have heard something
of a white waterfall. I'm not sure that it is mentioned in 'Pilgrim's
Progress,' but it seems to taste of Bunyan."

"P'raps so," said the youngster, "but Bunyan isn't in our line at
present. Captain Newmarch told me to hurry back to the yacht, as he
wants to get away by sunset, so if you're ready we'll make a start. My
name is Holman, Will Holman."

We walked up the quiet street together and I began to like Will Holman.
One couldn't help but like him. He had the frank, open ways of a boy,
but the cut of his jaw and the manner in which he minted his words led
you to believe that he would give a man's account of himself if any one
pushed him up against a wall. While he made some purchases in the little
stores, I went up to the broken-down shanty where Pierre the Rat ran his
house of refuge, and, after I had collected my few belongings, I went
back to the wharf, where a boat from _The Waif_ was waiting to take us
aboard the yacht.

It was when I was climbing into the boat that I got a surprise. One of
the two natives at the oars was the little Fijian who had been the pupil
of the Maori, but he didn't bat an eyelash when I stared at him.

"What's up?" asked Holman. "Do you know Toni?"

"He's one of the brace that were singing that song about the white
waterfall," I growled.

The Fijian let out a volley of indignant denials, and Holman laughed.

"You might be mistaken," he said. "Toni came ashore with me about two
hours ago, but I don't think he left the boat."

"I'm not mistaken," I said, as the Fijian kept on protesting that he had
never moved from the boat, "but it doesn't matter much. Let it go."

We were about a quarter of a mile from the shore when a man raced down
from the town, ran along to the sea end of the wharf and waved his arms
as if he was signalling us. Holman turned and looked at him.

"I wonder who it is?" he muttered. "Perhaps it is somebody with your
board bill, Verslun."

I started to laugh, then I stopped suddenly. The man on the wharf was
shouting to us, and when my ears caught a word I recognized him. It was
the big Maori who had been instructing the Fijian earlier in the
afternoon.

I told Holman, and he looked at Toni, but Toni's face was blank. For
some reason or other he wished to ignore hi