I will pay you well.”

“All right,” Joe Garland said. “I’ll go.”

He started to turn away.

“Joe,” the other called. “You see my lawyer to-morrow morning. Five hundred down and two hundred a month as long as you stay away.”

“You are very kind,” Joe Garland answered softly. “You are too kind. And anyway, I guess I don’t want your money. I go to-morrow on the Alameda.”

He walked away, but did not say good-bye.

Percival Ford clapped his hands.

“Boy,” he said to the Japanese, “a lemonade.”

And over the lemonade he smiled long and contentedly to himself.

KOOLAU THE LEPER

“Because we are sick they take away our liberty. We have obeyed the law. We have done no wrong. And yet they would put us in prison. Molokai is a prison. That you know. Niuli, there, his sister was sent to Molokai seven years ago. He has not seen her since. Nor will he ever see her. She must stay there until she dies. This is not her will. It is not Niuli’s will. It is the will of the white men who rule the land. And who are these white men?

“We know. We have it from our fathers and our fathers’ fathers. They came like lambs, speaking softly. Well might they speak softly, for we were many and strong, and all the islands were ours. As I say, they spoke softly. They were of two kinds. The one kind asked our permission, our gracious permission, to preach to us the word of God. The other kind asked our permission, our gracious permission, to trade with us. That was the beginning. To-day all the islands are theirs, all the land, all the cattle—everything is theirs. They that preached the word of God and they that preached the word of Rum have foregathered and become great chiefs.