, never
breathe a word to her that you have come from me."

"Mate, I wonder are you making a fool of me?" asked the boatswain.

"It will do you no harm if I am," returned Keawe.

"That is so, mate," said the boatswain.

"And if you doubt me," added Keawe, "you can try. As soon as you are
clear of the house, wish to have your pocket full of money, or a bottle
of the best rum, or what you please, and you will see the virtue of the
thing."

"Very well, Kanaka," says the boatswain. "I will try; but if you are
having your fun out of me, I will take my fun out of you with a
belaying-pin."

So the whaler-man went off up the avenue; and Keawe stood and waited. It
was near the same spot where Kokua had waited the night before; but
Keawe was more resolved, and never faltered in his purpose; only his
soul was bitter with despair.

It seemed a long time he had to wait before he heard a voice singing in
the darkness of the avenue. He knew the voice to be the boatswain's; but
it was strange how drunken it appeared upon a sudden.

Next, the man himself came stumbling into the light of the lamp. He had
the devil's bottle buttoned in his coat; another bottle was in his hand;
and even as he came in view he raised it to his mouth and drank.

"You have it," said Keawe. "I see that."

"Hands off!" cried the boatswain, jumping back. "Take a step near me and
I'll smash your mouth. You thought you could make a cat's-paw of me, did
you?"

"What do you mean?" cried Keawe.

"Mean?" cried the boatswain. "This is a pretty good bottle, this is;
that's what I mean. How I got it for two centimes I can't make out; but
I'm sure you shan't have it for one."

"You mean you won't sell it?" gasped Keawe.

"No, _sir!_" cried the boatswain. "But I'll give you a drink of the rum,
if you like."

"I tell you," said Keawe, "the man who has that bottle goes to hell."

"I reckon I'm going anyway," returned the sailor; "and this bottle's the
best thing to go with I've struck yet. No, sir!" he cried again, "this
is my bottle now, and you can go and fish for another."

"Can this be true?" Keawe cried. "For your own sake, I beseech you, sell
it me!"

"I don't value any of your talk," replied the boatswain. "You thought I
was a flat; now you see I'm not; and there's an end. If you won't have a
swallow of the rum I'll have one myself. Here's your health, and
good-night to you!"

So off he went down the avenue towards town, and there goes the bott