The White Waterfall. James Francis Dwyer

CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      A KNIFE FROM THE DARK

      It was after nine o'clock that evening before I again saw young Holman, and by that time Levuka was far behind. We had taken advantage of a stiff breeze that had sprung up about sunset, and The Waif was plunging through a moon-washed ocean, sending furrows of foam from her forefoot while the wind snored through her canvas. I forgot the happenings of the day as I felt the quivering vessel that seemed to thrill with the ecstasy of life as she flung herself at the watery wastes ahead. The tremor in her boards seemed to crawl into my body and warm me like wine, and I felt inclined to bless Holman instead of punching his head as I had thought of doing during the baiting I received from Miss Barbara Herndon. The youngster had saved me from days and nights of weary monotony in sleepy Levuka, and I welcomed him gladly as he joined me on the poop.

      "Say, you made a hit with the ladies!" he cried. "Your fame as a story-teller is set upon a solid foundation. And I don't suppose you are inclined to thank me for giving you the opportunity to tell of the wonderful things that happened while you slumbered on the wharf?"

      "Drop it," I growled; "I've had enough of the joke. By the way, what position do you hold in the expedition?"

      The boy laughed. "I hold none," he cried, "but I'm trying to make myself useful to the Professor so that he'll invite me to come ashore with him. The Professor and his daughters, with Leith and half a dozen natives, comprise the full strength of the expedition, and I'm trying hard for an invitation to the field of wonders."

      "But what are you doing aboard?" I asked.

      "My uncle owns The Waif," answered the young fellow, "and he thought this trip would be a nice cheap holiday for me. I wanted to take a run to the States, but that would have cost him money, so I allowed myself to be forced aboard the yacht. But, Gee! I'm mighty glad I came now."

      I glanced at his face as we turned in our walk, but he moved his head away quickly.

      "So it has been pleasant?" I said.

      "Pleasant?" he cried. "Why it has been a little foretaste of heaven. Say, I like you, and I know you like her by the manner in which you explained everything to her. Don't you think she's a jolly nice girl?"

      "Who?"

      "Why, Miss Barbara Herndon," he cried.

      "Oh!" I gurgled. "You took me by surprise, and I hardly knew—well, I didn't know what had made the trip so pleasant."

      He put out his hand, and I gripped it warmly. There was something clean and good about the youngster. When he glanced up at me as I took his hand, I looked into a face that was as open as the day—a face that possessed all the passionate purity of youth, and my grip was sincere. One didn't ask for credentials in dealing with Will Holman.

      "I liked you from the start," he said, "but I wanted the opinion of the girls. That's why I put Miss Barbara up to the game of firing questions at you about that silly business on the wharf."

      "And did I pass muster?" I queried.

      "Sure you did!" he cried enthusiastically. "Miss Barbara Herndon says that you are true blue, and Miss Edith—"

      He stopped and looked at a patch of shadow near the galley. "Some one is hiding there," he whispered. "I saw him sneak into it."

      "Nonsense!" I growled. "The moon and something else are affecting your brain."

      "But I'm sure of it," he gasped.

      He sprang for the spot as he finished speaking, but he found nothing. He returned to my side shaking his head as if only half convinced about the matter.

      "Some one was listening to us talking, but whoever it was he managed to slip away while we were arguing the question."

      "Well, he didn't learn much," I said. "It was probably one of the islanders, and you've scared the life out of him now."

      Holman gripped my arm as I turned away, and he put a question in a tense whisper.

      "What do you think of Leith?" he asked.

      Somehow the question did not surprise me, but I was not in a hurry to give my opinion of the, Professor's partner.

      "I have only spoken a few words to him," I countered cautiously.

      "But your impression?" stammered the youngster. "Don't you think—well, of course you haven't got the lay of things yet."

      I smiled at the guilelessness of the boy who was making a confidant of a stranger. "What's wrong with Leith?" I asked. "What are you hinting at?"

      Holman glanced at the Tongan at the wheel, then at the shadow patch that had disturbed his nerves a few moments before.

      "He's the devil!" he whispered.

      I felt inclined to laugh. Leith was certainly not a person that one would take to the moment an introduction was given, but the manner in which the young fellow had imparted his opinion was amusing. But it was evident that I had not guessed wrong when I divined trouble the moment I came over the side of the yacht.

      Holman caught my coat with his left hand as we turned, and he spoke excitedly.

      "Do you know what we're after?" he queried hoarsely.

      "It's a scientific expedition," I replied. "That's what you and Captain Newmarch told me, and I have not questioned any one else."

      "But do you know the particular line we are after?"

      "No," I replied.

      "Well, we're after skulls. Leith has told the Professor about some ancient boneyard that he knows of, and he's dragging old Herndon down there."

      "I cannot see the crime now," I said. "I've gone after skulls before to-day. I brought a hundred of them up to Vavau for a German scientist last year. He was taking them home to European museums to prove that the Polynesians of ten centuries back had bigger brains than the niggers of to-day."

      "Yes, I know that," gurgled Holman; "but Leith—oh, damn it! I can't get you to understand! He pulled the Professor into this deal, and the old man is as green as grass. Herndon supplied the money and all that, and he's that much of a silly old doodlebug that this fellow is buncoing him out of his good gold."

      "Yes," I muttered; "and what do his daughters say?"

      "Say?" cried the youngster. "They can say nothing that will do any good when they are talking to a madman. He sees Fame coming down the pike, and he's blind to all the tricks of that devil. It's a fact, Verslun! Leith is after the old man's cash—and after Edith Herndon as well."

      I stood and