end it, good-bye!"

Tom the cook came in with the chops and the potatoes--the doctor's
dinner--and McClintock fell to with a gusto which suggested that
there was still some liver under his ribs. The doctor smoked his
pipe thoughtfully.

"Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?"

"Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. "Sounds as if I had
heard it, but I can't place it this minute. Certainly I never met
him. Why?"

"I was just wondering. You say you need a man. Just how particular
are you? Will he have to bring recommendations?"

"He will not. His face will be all I need. Have you got someone in
mind for me?"

"Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story." Ten minutes
later, the doctor, having marshalled all his facts chronologically,
began his tale. He made it brief. "Of course, I haven't the least
evidence that the boy has done anything wrong; it's what I'd call a
hunch; piecing this and that together."

"Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine
cigar across the table.

"Yes. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk for
something to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts.
Pretty good stuff, some of it. The subject matter was generally
worthless, but the handling was well done. You're always
complaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months. If
my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely."

"I don't know," said McClintock.

"But you said you weren't particular. Moreover, he's a Yale
University man, and he'd be good company."

"What's he know about copra and native talk?"

"Nothing, probably; but I'll wager he'll pick it all up fast
enough."

"A fugitive."

"But that's the point--I don't know. But supposing he is? Supposing
he made but one misstep? Your island would be a haven of security.
I know something about men."

"I agree to that. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the
woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. Why are you so anxious?"

"Oh, if you can't see your way...."

"I'll have a look-see before I make any decision. It's your
eagerness that bothers me. You seem to want this chap out of
Canton."

The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. "There's a young
woman."

"I remember now!" interrupted McClintock. "This Enschede--the
missioner. One of his converted Kanakas dropped in one day. He
called Enschede the Bellower. Seems Enschede's daughter ran away
and left him,