the money I had to offer, with a
new tin roof and a water tank and a copra shed with a cement floor, and
an imported banana in an imported ton of earth to give a natty effect to
the back view--the front being all reef and dazzle and Pacific Ocean.

Lonesome? Coffin-lid, nail-her-down, lonesome--why, of course! Was there
ever a coral island that wasn't? But there was copra in plenty; only one
other trader and him a boozer; quite a bit of pearl shell, and Tom's
book showing how he had cleared thirty-three hundred dollars in a year.
He had boils something awful, and for the last two years it had just
been a fight to stick it out. I came along when the boils had won all
along the line, with Tom ready to leave everything all standing in order
to get away.

There hadn't been a ship in five months, and he had come mighty near
pegging out, having made his will and tacked it to the shed door,
besides giving the natives receipts in advance that he had died a
natural death, they being afraid some passing man-of-war might hold
them responsible and shoot up the island.

We had settled everything, counted out the money, and shook hands when
Tom says, over a good-by nip of Square-face: "Oh, that girl of mine,
Ben,--you'll take care her, won't you?"

"Girl?" says I.

"She's broke in to cooking and washing and white ways," explains Tom,
"and it'd go against my conscience to feel I hadn't left her
comfortable."

"Let's see her," I said.

He called her in, and one glance at her settled the matter. She was
about eighteen, as slim and straight as a dart, and, by far and away,
the prettiest woman I had seen in the group. She stood there mighty
sullen as I sized her up, and admired her splendid black hair that was
bound by a red ribbon at the nape of her neck, very coquettish and
attractive. I've always liked that proud, to-hell-with-you look in a
girl, and it seemed to make her better worth having, like there was
something to master before you could have your will with her. Yes, it
was bargain day for me all right, and the store wasn't the only thing I
was getting cheap.

"What she saying?" I asked, as she spoke something in Kanaka to Tom,
showing real pretty teeth.

"She won't stay if you whip her," grins Tom.

"Bless her heart, I won't whip her," I says, thinking to break the ice
by pulling her down on my knee. But she struggled like a wildcat, and
Tom, he suddenly turns red-hot jealous.

"Leave that till I'm gone," he says,