e Flami 
 
 II 
 
 A HONOLULU 
 
 MOVEL 
 
GIFT or 
 
 Class of \30V 
 
 7^ 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/flamingosnesthonOOsprarich 
 
THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
THE 
 
 FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 A Honolulu Story 
 
 BY 
 ROGER SPRAGUE 
 
 BERKELEY. CAL. 
 
 LEDERER, STREET AND ZEUS 
 
 1917 
 
o^ 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 Copyright, 1917 
 By Roger Sprague 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I On Board the Steamship Nevada 1 
 
 II Predatory Wealth - . - - 9 
 
 III Yachting in the Tropics - - 23 
 
 IV The Roof Garden - - - . 40 
 V Frank Atten, Secretary - - - 51 
 
 VI Motoring in the Tropics - - 66 
 
 VII Plots and Counterplots - - - 84 
 
 VIII The President of the Cosmos Club 95 
 
 IX To the Hills 110 
 
 X The Bungalow 127 
 
 XI Charley Deane 139 
 
 XII Malefactors 152 
 
 XIII Citizens of Japan - - - - 158 
 
 XIV Night Work - - - - - 174 
 XV Through Dust and Foam - - 189 
 
 XVI The Master of the Agamemnon - 204 
 
 XVII A Change of Base - - - - 218 
 
 XVIII The Home of the Sugar-Planter - 232 
 
CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIX An Escape 248 
 
 XX A Capture ------ 263 
 
 XXI The Palace of the Island King - 280 
 
 XXII Coburn to the Rescue - - - 300 
 
 XXIII Beneath the Breadfruit - - - 315 
 
 XXIV Koko Head 330 
 
 XXV The Cliff ------ 341 
 
 XXVI Marjorie Burl 348 
 
 XXVII At Home in the Tropics - - 360 
 
 OA 
 
 — 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 Most of the local color in this story is photo- 
 graphic. But the Crossroads and Cosmos Clubs 
 do not exist; the X Sugar Company is fiction, not 
 fact; and liberties have been taken with the 
 territorial Capitol^ — some features altered, others 
 added free gratis. Nor can the story be taken as 
 a brief in favor of the hero's rather eccentric 
 business methods. All characters and incidents 
 are fictitious, and no statement refers to any 
 person or company. 
 
 Time of the story: April, 1913. 
 
 R. S. 
 
In the Hawaiian Islands — 
 
 Land of smoldering volcanoes and mixed races. 
 
 Where the most primitive conditions linger beside the 
 
 most modern. 
 And methods match conditions. 
 
THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 I 
 
 ON BOARD THE STEAMSHIP NEVADA 
 
 Stately Island liner steering: toward Hawaii, 
 Steaming- where the coral grows and sunshine glares, 
 
 For a cargo of sugar, 
 
 Bananas, pineapples, 
 Cocoanuts and copra and alligator-pears. 
 
 With apologies to John Mas^field 
 
 THE Royal Palm liner "Nevada," westward 
 bound from San Francisco to Honolulu and 
 Japan, plunged through the waves at the 
 rate of eighteen knots an hour, a modem hotel 
 driven by steam across the blue spaces of the 
 Pacific. The day was dazzlingly bright — a brilliant 
 tropical morning. In the dancing light the steam- 
 ship made a spirited picture, with its twin red 
 funnels and high straight stem and a string of 
 gaudy signal-flags fluttering indigo and white 
 and yellow. The sun flashed fire from the brass 
 ports studding the liner's black sides. Along the 
 boat-deck white canvas awnings were stretched 
 where passengers lounged in lazy deck-chairs that 
 trembled to the vibration from the drive of the 
 triple turbines. The throb of the engines, the 
 rumble of the propellers, the rhythmic rise and 
 fall of the long steel hull as it rode the seas, all 
 spoke of speed and progress, which were hurrying 
 them on toward the trade-winds and tropical 
 color of the Hawaiian Islands. 
 
2 * THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Already the ship had come more than two 
 thousand miles from the mainland. 
 
 For an hour Hawaii had been in sight. In 
 plain view lay an island where the waves were 
 streaming toward a shore fringed with the vivid 
 green of palm groves and the ragged outlines of 
 volcanic rocks. 
 
 Among those who were looking toward the 
 land, no one stared more intently than Kenneth 
 Crane. He rose from his chair and crossed the 
 deck to the ship's rail, where he looked landward 
 with eager interest and a thrill of gratification, 
 as his eye followed the slopes of jungle-clad hills 
 to where their summits lifted, darkened by the 
 shadows of clouds. While the rest of that 
 chattering, laughing crowd of passengers thought 
 of nothing but the enjoyment of the hour, he 
 studied those island hills with a most business- 
 like air. He regarded them as the scene of his 
 coming work, for within their valleys and beyond 
 their slopes he should have to find the solution 
 of the problem he had come to solve. 
 
 Crane was in a happy frame of mind. And it 
 seemed as though he had sufficient reason. When 
 a man has been commissioned to go to the very 
 corner of the world where he has always wanted 
 to go, and when his business entails the carrying 
 out of just such an adventurous program as he 
 should have loved to plan if left to his own devices, 
 he ought to feel satisfied with fate. 
 
 His lungs expanded as he looked across the 
 sun-spangled waves to the homes and hotels along 
 the shore beneath the palms. The trade-winds 
 
ON BOARD THE NEVADA 3 
 
 were blowing out of his system the last lingering 
 traces of San Francisco fog. While he watched 
 the play of light and shade and cloud and color, 
 with the sunlight glittering over all, he felt himself 
 carried away on a wave of appreciation. 
 
 What a glorious thing it is to be healthy and 
 young and full of vitality, with a definite place in 
 the world and a definite work to do, — ^when the 
 place and the work are altogether to one*s taste! 
 Crane felt as though everyone was his friend that 
 morning, and when someone came to his side and 
 began to speak to him, he turned to the speaker 
 with his happiest smile, — the more readily since 
 the person was a young lady and good looking. 
 
 The girl looked up brightly, as she leaned on 
 the deck-rail. Her lips seemed to have a habit of 
 parting in a dazzling way on the smallest provoca- 
 tion. Wearing a flamingo-pink jacket and linen 
 skirt and white cape-collar and belt, with her blond 
 hair arranged in a very high and fluffy fashion, 
 she made a picture he liked to admire. But she 
 brought his mind back to the landscape. 
 
 "It looks like a dream of the tropics, doesn't 
 it?" she was saying. 
 
 "Doesn't it, though, Miss Burl! *Every prospect 
 pleases, and only man is vile'." 
 
 "You're quite severe on the Honolulu people." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't mean to be ; but if I were at liberty 
 to tell you the business that brings me here, you 
 might be pessimistic, too ; that is, pessimistic about 
 some of them, the thundering spiders!" 
 
 "What strenuous insects! But I suppose they 
 average up pretty much as people do everywhere." 
 
4 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "I suppose so. We legal men see too much of 
 the seamy side of things. I happen to be on the 
 track of a bunch of bloodsuckers, but I mean to 
 reform them. After I've effected their reformation, 
 I'll be more optimistic over humanity. And this 
 morning, I meant to forget all about business, and 
 devote myself to sightseeing. It's my introduction 
 to the tropics. Isn't it like landing in a new 
 planet?" 
 
 It did seem a good deal like arriving in a strange 
 planet, there was so much that was novel in sight. 
 The ultramarine of the sea was spangled with 
 flying-fish that glittered like silver as they flashed 
 from the crests of the low waves. From the shore 
 rose the brown sides of a burned-out volcanic 
 crater, lifting their huge circle abruptly from the 
 water. The crater formed a headland, around 
 which all vessels arriving from the mainland must 
 come. It was known as Diamond Head. 
 
 Around Diamond Head the steamship "Nevada'* 
 steered on the last stretch of its voyage. Swinging 
 a quarter of a circle, the vessel shaped a straight 
 course for the harbor of Honolulu, now lying in 
 plain sight about four miles away. Harbor and 
 city were betrayed by the tall masts of ships and 
 the heavy funnels of ocean-steamers. As the 
 "Nevada" raced along parallel to the beach at 
 Waikiki, the passengers crowded to the starboard 
 rail, for they had come into full view of one of 
 the loveliest tropical pictures the world offers. 
 
 Color! Color and sunlight! Blue waves, and 
 surf, and palm- waved shore; green glitter of wide 
 rice-lands; alluring slopes of tree-covered hills, all 
 
ON BOARD THE NEVADA 5 
 
 glowing beneath a sky which arched in turquoise- 
 blue, crowned by a dazzling sun. Crane watched 
 the picture with the rest, lingering over every 
 feature. His gaze followed the long waves as they 
 rolled landward. 
 
 The smoking surf was rumbling thunderously 
 over a reef to reach the curving shore, up which 
 the water glided, tamed to softness. Along the 
 dazzling strip of beach tall, slender palms were 
 waving, the shimmering green of their branches 
 contrasting vividly with the coral sand. Brown 
 bungalows peeped out from between their trunks. 
 Beyond the palms the rice-fields lay, two miles of 
 vivid green. And farther off, across the level land, 
 there loomed the dark green of high hills, their 
 contours broken by deep, romantic valleys and 
 culminating in a line of peaks where lay a long 
 white roll of trade-wind clouds. With an indigo- 
 blue sky as a background for the picture, and a 
 glorious golden sun gilding every feature, all who 
 saw it felt that their rosiest ideas of the tropics 
 were being realized. 
 
 But natural scenery is as uninteresting to many 
 as it is attractive to others. Crane and Miss Burl, 
 still leaning on the rail side by side, had forgotten 
 everything else in the fascination of the landscape, 
 when they were interrupted by someone who had 
 come to Crane's side and was saying, 
 
 "What the do all these fools see to look at?" 
 
 Crane turned quickly. It was a lean, dark- 
 haired young man who had approached and was 
 speaking. Miss Burl colored and walked away. 
 Crane spoke up warmly. 
 
6 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "If you can't appreciate the scenery yourself, 
 sir," he said, "that is no reason why you should 
 insult those who can." 
 
 "Scenery! Scenery!'* the other answered, and 
 it would be impossible to suggest the sneering 
 contempt in his tone. "I see nothing but rocks 
 and dirt, piled up, with some brush to cover them." 
 
 Crane remembered the fellow, now. His name 
 was Carding, and he was returning to his home 
 in Honolulu, after having spent the last four years 
 on the mainland, in pursuit of an education. It 
 occurred to Crane that culture must have had no 
 place in Carding's college course. 
 
 "He may have had a technical training along 
 some line or other," he thought. "If so, that was 
 all." 
 
 And Crane leaned back against the rail and 
 studied him for a moment. 
 
 "Probably his principal occupation in college, 
 was sowing a sackful of wild oats and reaping a 
 crop of bad habits. But, if he doesn't look out, 
 he'll get into trouble," and Crane grinned as he 
 watched the comedy which was coming. 
 
 Carding was moving slowly and haughtily along 
 the deck, ignoring everyone. A dozen of the crew 
 were bringing a hawser which would be needed 
 later in making the steamer fast to its pier. The 
 men rushed aft with the heavy rope. It struck 
 Carding's feet. He sputtered and staggered for 
 a moment, then lost his balance and fell forward 
 on his nose. 
 
 "Pride goes before a fall," thought Crane, and 
 he turned away. But a moment later the two 
 
ON BOARD THE NEVADA 7 
 
 were required to stand in line side by side, for 
 now the steamer was nearing the harbor and the 
 passengers were being lined up for the quarantine 
 inspection. Carding, in spite of his misadventure, 
 appeared to be in a better frame of mind than he 
 had been a few minutes before. His sour features 
 were twisted into an attempt at a smile, as he 
 inquired whether Crane "had any friends in the 
 Islands?" 
 
 Crane had half started to say that he carried 
 
 "a letter of introduction to a lieutenant at Fort 
 
 Ruger," when he thought better of it, and answered, 
 
 "No — no friends. 1*11 have to herd at hotels with 
 
 the rest of the tourists.'* 
 
 Half an hour later the "Nevada" was at its dock, 
 the gang-plank had been run out, and the 
 passengers were going ashore. 
 
 There was a crowd on the pier, below the 
 gangway, and it was a picturesque crowd; men in 
 white linen suits, women in white linen dresses, 
 curio-sellers with models of native canoes, bare- 
 footed boys calling the "Advertiser", Hawaiian 
 flower-sellers, their hats and shoulders radiant with 
 wreaths. Some of the ladies in white linen dresses 
 also wore wreaths, — "leis" they called them. And 
 from the crowd came a medley of cries and 
 requests. 
 "Hotel! Hotel, sir?" 
 "Nice canoe, mister. Made it myself." 
 "Excursion to the Pali. Start right away." 
 "Hawaiian flowers. Best in Honolulu." 
 "Advertiser! Advertiser! All about the double 
 murder ! HORRIBLE ! !" 
 
8 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Crane paid no attention to any of these 
 distractions. As he stood beneath the long shed 
 of the pier, he looked around him as though in 
 search of something or someone. 
 
 "And now to find the lieutenant," he thought. 
 "They told me they'd have him here to meet me — 
 and I guess that is my man." 
 
 The lieutenant was not a difficult man to 
 identify, for his height was six feet, four. He 
 carried his uniform well; his dark blue tunic, 
 his gilded shoulder-straps and his high military 
 cap became him. The deep visor of his cap 
 descended until it almost met a heavy red 
 mustache. But as Crane peered up beneath the 
 visor he caught the gleam of a pair of eye- 
 glasses, and behind them he saw a pair of good- 
 humored blue eyes. 
 
 "Is this lieutenant Sherrill?" Crane inquired. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I have a letter introducing me," and he 
 extended his letter of introduction. 
 
 "Oh, you're Mr. Crane. Very glad to meet you, 
 sir," and the lieutenant shook hands with a hearty 
 grip. "I have a machine outside the dock. If 
 you'll let me take you to the Crossroads Club, I 
 can offer you some lunch, and we can talk later." 
 
 "I'm with you," and Crane and the lieutenant 
 left the pier together. 
 
 "And I think you'll find my talk interesting," 
 Crane added in a lower tone. "We are planning 
 to give the officers of the X Sugar Company the 
 surprise of their lives." 
 
II 
 
 PREDATORY WEALTH 
 
 THE Crossroads Club had its quarters in a 
 quiet part of Honolulu, directly behind what 
 had once been the royal palace. But monarchy 
 had been abolished from Hawaii, and the palace had 
 been transformed into an executive building for 
 the use of territorial officials. The residences behind 
 it, once the homes of wealthy people, had descended 
 to various and sundry uses. The one which the 
 club occupied, stood at the intersection of two 
 narrow and shady streets, its beautifully planned 
 grounds protected by low walls of coral rock. At 
 the corner there was a wrought-iron gate, where 
 the two men entered. 
 
 Behind the wall! — a blaze of flowers, a wealth 
 of verdure, a cloud of fragrance floating on the 
 breath of the trade-wind. The waving of palm 
 branches pleased the eye, — the splashing of foun- 
 tains made music for the ear. Half hidden by 
 trees, the club-house stood before them — a square 
 structure, with many doors and windows, and 
 balconies on both floors. They followed a path 
 across the lawn to the low entrance, and ascended 
 to the second story, which contained the dining- 
 room. 
 
 The streets of the city were baking beneath 
 the bright April sun, but this room, with its 
 windows wide open, was fanned by the trade-wind. 
 
10 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 which came rustling through the leaves of trees 
 that shaded the verandah. The lieutenant ushered 
 Crane to a round table which was ornamented 
 with a bouquet of purple hibiscus blossoms. 
 
 The lunch was excellent. Crane attacked it with 
 a sprightly appetite, after his five days on board 
 the steamer. They postponed all discussion until 
 after the meal, when they adjourned to a verandah 
 which overlooked the lawn with its scattering of 
 tropical shrubs and trees. They stretched them- 
 selves lazily in long rattan chairs. The lieutenant 
 lit a cigar. 
 
 "And now, Mr. Crane;" he said, "if you'll 
 enlighten me as to how the situation stands, and 
 just what I can do for you, I'll be only too glad 
 to take up the business with you." 
 
 The chairs were so easy, and the day was so 
 delightful, that Crane fairly hated the idea of 
 "getting down to business." But the officer had 
 come to the point at once. Except for them, the 
 verandah was vacant, and they might speak freely. 
 
 "Let's get on common ground first," Crane 
 answered. "I suppose you are pretty well posted 
 on the trouble that brings me here." 
 
 "I know it's a case of a sugar-plantation and 
 predatory wealth, although I can't say I have paid 
 close attention to the details. But I remember 
 how the X Sugar Company was started; ten years 
 ago, and by men who were unable to put up the 
 necessary capital." 
 
 "They could advance only a small part of it." 
 
 "They were able to launch the enterprise only 
 by the selling of stock. At that time there was 
 
PREDATORY WEALTH 11 
 
 a great deal of building activity in Honolulu. 
 Mechanics from the mainland had come here in 
 large numbers, and were receiving high wages. 
 A large amount of the stock was sold to them, 
 much of it above par, for they saw sugar 
 plantations paying their shareholders dividends of 
 from ten to twenty per cent." 
 
 "They expected to get the same." 
 
 "But, you know it takes time to break ground 
 on a plantation and to plant the cane. And after 
 that, three years must elapse before a crop is 
 harvested. The stockholders could not expect a 
 dividend in less than four years. Meanwhile, the 
 building boom in Honolulu came to its natural 
 conclusion. When the work was completed, the 
 mechanics began to drift back to the mainland. 
 So those stockholders returned to California, 
 carrying their stock with them, and looking 
 forward to the day when it would yield returns. 
 But you know the result." 
 
 "That day hasn't come yet." 
 
 "Precisely, — and that about sums up my know- 
 ledge of the case." 
 
 "And I know what came after," Crane answered. 
 "When the first crop of sugar was sold, — and it 
 was a good one, — not one cent was set aside as 
 a dividend for the shareholders." 
 
 "Part of the money was used in paying liberal 
 salaries to the manager and officers." 
 
 "And all the remainder was used in enlarging 
 the plantation, and in purchasing additional equip- 
 ment." 
 
 "And the same system has been followed to the 
 
12 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 present day. Every year the plantation gets bigger, 
 and the salaries of its officers grow larger, and 
 not a single dividend has yet been declared." 
 
 "That's the situation," Crane replied. "The four 
 men who launched the enterprise and who have 
 continued to hold the offices of president, secretary, 
 treasurer and manager, have always kept the 
 majority of the stock in their own hands. To 
 start the plantation they used the money obtained 
 by a sale of the minority of the stock, but they 
 have never paid a cent to the minority stock- 
 holders.. Of course, many of those stockholders 
 sold out long ago for what they could get. But 
 there still remain two hundred in California who 
 have clubbed together, and who have pledged 
 themselves not to let go. I, as you know, am 
 the president of their organization, and am here 
 as their representative." 
 
 Crane was fairly seething with the subject now, 
 and he began to overflow with facts and figures. 
 
 "In case, lieutenant, that you have not kept 
 track of the situation, let me show you the last 
 annual report of the company. Here is the 
 manager's salary, — fifteen thousand dollars per 
 annum. And what does he do for it?" 
 
 "He spent nearly the whole of last year traveling 
 in Europe." 
 
 "The real manager, as things stand at present, 
 is the overseer, the 'head luna' as they call him 
 in the Islands. He is a very competent man, but 
 he receives only a hundred and fifty dollars a 
 month. The president, secretary and treasurer 
 are each down for fifteen thousand dollars a year. 
 
PREDATORY WEALTH 13 
 
 What do they do? Nothing but sign their names 
 to reports prepared by clerks!" 
 
 "Oh, I guess they keep a sharp eye on expenses," 
 interrupted the lieutenant. 
 
 "Yes, I presume they do," Crane admitted. "But 
 their salaries are inflated, and these figures 
 represent only a fraction of what they have been 
 receiving. Each has been drawing 'salary and 
 expenses.' Their expenses have included anything 
 and everything they wanted, from $50,000 homes 
 to limousines. TheyVe been getting rich at the 
 game. They started poor. Now they are becoming 
 'malefactors of great wealth.' 
 
 "Well, so much for history. Here is the present 
 situation; eight sugar plantation in this island, — 
 seven of them managed honestly and efficiently, 
 pay their shareholders dividends of ten to twenty 
 per cent per annum. And here is one plantation 
 which never yet has paid a dividend, and that 
 plantation one of the best in the lot. Yet it has 
 always paid its officers liberally, even during the 
 first four years when no returns were coming in. 
 Its expenses for supplies, are greater proportionally 
 than those of any other plantation. Of course, no 
 one is getting a rake-off." 
 
 Sherrill laughed a little at Crane's indignation. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Crane," he said, "it's true I bought 
 a little stock in the X plantation, when first I 
 came to these islands, nine years ago. I 'took a 
 flyer,' as they say, and I still hold that stock. The 
 reason I never sold was because I bought above 
 par, and it has been below par ever since. But I 
 never worried myself over the matter. There were 
 
14 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 two reasons. First, the government pays me a 
 salary sufficient for my needs. Second, I have a 
 private income. The money means very little to 
 me. And I calculated that the plantation cannot 
 go on expanding forever. The island has its 
 limitations. When they have bought up all the 
 land available, and have covered it with cane, 
 their revenues will be so enormous that they simply 
 must declare a dividend." 
 
 "Don't you believe it, lieutenant ! Why, they have 
 practically reached the limit now, and they are 
 spending the revenue in purchasing and installing 
 a new equipment for their irrigation-system." 
 
 "You think they'll always find a place to put 
 the money?" 
 
 "Even if they have to carry the office-cat on 
 the pay-roll, as T. Feline at two thousand dollars 
 a year. 
 
 "You say, lieutenant, that the money means 
 very little to you. But on the mainland there are 
 two hundred Americans, most of them with wives 
 and families dependent upon them, to whom the 
 money means a great deal. When two hundred 
 hard-working men have put their money into an 
 enterprise; when they have furnished the capital 
 which made it possible to carry on that enterprise, 
 don't you think they deserve something more in 
 return than a chance to sell out for half what 
 they gave?" 
 
 The lieutenant began to sit up and take notice. 
 "I guess I ought to be ashamed of myself, Mr. 
 Crane," he said. "I might have brought some 
 influence to bear on those officers. I am afraid 
 
PREDATORY WEALTH 15 
 
 I played a lazy part. But what do you propose 
 to do?" 
 
 Crane grew diplomatic. 
 
 "I'll say this much," he answered, "we will no 
 longer submit to the present condition of affairs. 
 We have determined on revolt. Revolt's the word." 
 
 "Revolt! And just what does that mean in 
 this case?" 
 
 Crane hesitated. 
 
 "What will be your first step?" the lieutenant 
 went on. "Will you hold a conference with them, 
 and make a special appeal?" 
 
 "It would do no good. They're hardened to 
 special appeals." 
 
 "Then you'll bring the law to bear on them?" 
 
 "No use. The law cannot touch them. Every- 
 thing they've done, is, on the face of it, strictly 
 legal. We had them in court three months ago, 
 and could accomplish nothing." 
 
 "Then what will you do? I believe you have 
 a definite program in mind." 
 
 "Fight fire with fire. But I don't want to 
 draw you into this too far, lieutenant. However, 
 mine's not a program of revenge or malice. It's 
 a program of reformation." 
 
 The lieutenant was nearly nettled out of all 
 patience by the vagueness of Crane's answers. But 
 he restrained himself, and tried one more question. 
 
 "But how reform men who possess iron-clad 
 consciences, and are well fortified by the law?" 
 
 "By playing upon their fears. I believe I can 
 make it, for there's another factor in this case, 
 a factor I haven't mentioned; and that's a band 
 
16 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 of Japanese from the X plantation. We're already 
 in communication with them. Here is the situation. 
 The Japanese are out on strike. They're a reckless 
 set, ready for any enterprise. Now, if they're left 
 to themselves, there's sure to be trouble — in fact, 
 there may be bloodshed, which would do no good, 
 and a great deal of harm. But I propose to join 
 forces with them and direct their zeal along a 
 better line." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I can't explain until we have something definite 
 arranged. But, speaking indefinitely, we'll play 
 a game of bluff and *beard the lion in his den.' 
 We'll come in a body and have a personal interview 
 with the manager and officers of the X Sugar 
 Company, but we'll arrange the interview so that 
 we are masters of the situation. They'll change 
 their tone when they see themselves surrounded 
 by a set of husky Japanese — if we arrange it so 
 there's no chance for interference." 
 
 "Change their tone, or telephone for the police." 
 
 "That's the very point. It's up to us to arrange 
 a program which won't permit them to send for 
 the police." 
 
 "Don't get too strenuous," the officer cautioned. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, lieutenant. We'll not get 
 desperate. Remember, this is a program of 
 reformation. There'll be no damage done, except 
 perhaps to put somebody over a barrel. I mean to 
 take time enough in working out the details, so 
 that the whole affair will amount to no more 
 than a huge practical joke. But it will bring the 
 results we want." 
 
PREDATORY WEALTH 17 
 
 'And those results are- 
 
 "To give the stockholders their dividends, 
 reinstate the Japanese on the plantation, and 
 reform the guilty parties. It sounds ambitious, 
 but I believe I can make it." 
 
 "I see. Your plan is to frighten them with a 
 pretense of coercion. I guess, from what I know 
 of the men, it won't take much of that sort of 
 ihing to bring them to time. A little physical 
 suasion would be no more than they deserve." 
 
 "And there's nothing morally wrong in reforming 
 a set of malefactors." 
 
 "Very good, Mr. Crane. If you want my candid 
 opinion, hanging would be too good for the 
 manager and officers of the X Sugar Company. 
 You can reform them all you want to, so far as 
 I am concerned, and you can expect my unqualified 
 endorsement. I imagine I can see some fun 
 coming," and the lieutenant's eyes twinkled as he 
 began to grasp the situation. "They'll get no 
 sympathy from me." 
 
 "Thank you, lieutenant. That was just the 
 attitude I expected you to take, from what I've 
 been told. Of course, I can't expect you to go 
 very far. But I'm a stranger in Hawaii, and I 
 shall need a lot of advice. Just let me draw on 
 you for advice and information. If I can get 
 your help in making my plans, it will be all I 
 shall need or expect. When it comes to carrying 
 out the plan, that will be up to me." 
 
 "But you haven't decided yet on the details of 
 your program." 
 
 "Not yet. On board the steamer I made a dozen 
 
18 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 plans, but I haven't the slightest idea as to 
 whether I can carry out a single one of them. I 
 know the whole affair sounds ridiculously simple. 
 As a matter of fact, it's exceedingly complex." 
 ' "It's easy to talk of bearding the lion in his 
 den, — but not so easy to do it." 
 
 "Precisely. Not until I've studied local conditions 
 thoroughly, shall I feel safe in handling the 
 situation. At present I must meet the men I'm 
 after, and I must learn the country." 
 
 "And the first thing you mean to do " 
 
 "Is to explore the island from end to end, from 
 center to circumference. Oh, it's necessary — many 
 reasons. I mean to cruise around it, to climb its 
 hills, to investigate its valleys, to learn its roads, 
 until I know the country as well as I know the 
 pockets in my own coat. Nor need that take 
 much time, in an island only thirty-five miles long. 
 Two weeks should be ample." and he half drew 
 a folding-map from his breast-pocket. 
 
 "More interested in making a study of local 
 conditions, perhaps, than in 'bearding the lion'," 
 the lieutenant thought. But Crane was no mind- 
 reader. 
 
 "Now the first thing I want to do, and need 
 to do," he continued, "is to circumnavigate the 
 island, to get a general notion of the country. For 
 such a trip it seems to me a motor-boat would be 
 most suitable. Can you advise me as to where 
 I can get a boat, and how I can best avoid publicity 
 in so doing?" and as Crane thought of the work 
 before him, he started from his chair and tramped 
 up and down the verandah, rubbing his hands 
 
PREDATORY WEALTH 19 
 
 together. The lieutenant watched him with a 
 smile. 
 
 "If you care to accompany me in my own boat, 
 the Firefly, I shall be glad to take you around 
 the island myself. You see, I am on the staff 
 of the army, not the line. I am not tied down 
 to barrack duty. In fact, my duties call me 
 around the island on tours of inspection. I had 
 planned one for to-morrow." 
 
 "Delighted," and Crane's expression cleared. "If 
 I get past every snag as easily as that, I shall 
 have smooth sailing." 
 
 "But wait a moment, Mr. Crane," said the other. 
 "I think I see one snag. Or, at least, I want to 
 put you on your guard against it. Look out for 
 leaks!" 
 
 "Meaning, lieutenant, " 
 
 "That there are two hundred stockholders 
 behind you, — and if all of them know the nature 
 of your business in the Islands, someone will be 
 ^sure to give it away to the officers of the X 
 plantation, in hope of a cheap reward." 
 
 "I've thought of that already. In fact, no one 
 outside of a very select committee, knows my 
 business." 
 
 "Good enough! And on board the "Nevada," 
 did nobody ask your business, or seem unduly 
 interested in your affairs?" 
 
 "Why, only in a very general way. That is — 
 now I think of it — there was one who kept edging 
 in, but he made such a poor impression that his 
 efforts were worse than useless. A young cub by 
 
20 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the name of Carding, it was. He's just out of 
 college, returning to his home in the Islands." 
 
 "I guess he hardly counts," said the lieutenant. 
 And then he added. "The stockholders seem to have 
 a most zealous representative in you, Mr. Crane. 
 You haven't the air of a man who is chained to 
 his oar." 
 
 "Please don't give me too much credit. Some 
 stock was sold on the mainland, and I own enough 
 to make it quite worth my while to carry this 
 matter through." 
 
 3o one topic led to another. The sun had set, 
 and the short tropical twilight had faded before 
 the discussion was concluded. They walked 
 together to the hotel where Crane intended 
 to lodge. 
 
 It was an immense concrete structure, its front 
 extending the full length of the block, — the city's 
 "newest and most luxuriously appointed fire-proof 
 hotel, a hotel designed to appeal to the conserva- 
 tive." Looking as if it had been transplanted 
 bodily from a mainland metropolis, it seemed 
 altogether inappropriate in a tropical island. 
 
 Crane would have invited the officer to dinner, 
 had not the latter suggested, 
 
 "I guess we had better be seen together in the 
 city as little as possible. If we avoid each other 
 in public, I think I can serve you best. Good 
 night, Mr. Crane. You know the way to the 
 wharf. I'll see you there at six o'clock to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 They parted with a cordial grip, and Crane 
 went in for dinner. 
 
PREDATORY WEALTH 21 
 
 After the meal he entered the lobby. With its 
 palms and paintings, panelled walls and mosaic 
 pavement, the room resembled in its main features 
 the lobby of a mainland hotel. But it was full of 
 suggestions and flavors of the tropics. Baskets 
 of tropical blossoms stood in the corners. On 
 the walls were gorgeously colored photographs and 
 paintings of Hawaiian scenery. Announcements 
 of excursions to a score of places with appallingly 
 unpronounceable native names, were tacked to a 
 bulletin-board. In one comer of the room a very 
 dark but very neat Hawaiian woman presided 
 over a curio-stand, where the glass top of the 
 show-case was covered with tiny banjo-fiddles, 
 while faces carved from cocoanuts, and specimens 
 of lava from Hawaiian volcanoes, were displayed 
 within the case. Feather hat-bands in peacock 
 blue and scarlet, hung from a line. The exotic 
 tone of everything appealed to Crane*s imagination. 
 
 He meditatively seated himself in a deep leather 
 chair that stood opposite a tinted photograph — 
 a tall panel showing a long, diminishing perspective 
 of palm trees waving in the trade-wind. Perhaps 
 the picture influenced his meditations. He leaned 
 back, half closing his eyes, while he dreamed of 
 what lay before him as he should explore the 
 country. Some of the pictures which his mind 
 framed were very attractive. 
 
 Tn imagination he was cruising along the coast 
 of a gorgeous tropical island, voyaging over 
 sapphire seas, amid shoals of flying-fish. The 
 wooded slopes of the hills rose, a riot of color, to 
 where waterfalls played in the glens — waterfalls 
 
22 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 fed by downpours from mists that capped the 
 highest crests. He could hear the wind in the 
 palms, the surf on the shore; he could see the 
 spray rising in clouds from the coral reef. And 
 he saw himself exploring the tangled cane-fields, 
 where square miles of sugar-cane covered plain 
 and plateau; or searching deep ravines which led 
 to the heart of the hills ; or spinning in a motor-car 
 over long white roads that ran beneath the shadow 
 of stupendous cliffs. Then he thought of the 
 clustered flowers; the cocoa-palms; the thatched 
 homes of the natives. 
 
 Was he "more interested in making a study of 
 local conditions than in bearding the lion?" 
 
 But his mind went on to dwell on the business 
 which had brought him to the Islands. He thought 
 of the planning and plotting it would involve, the 
 handling of delicate situations, until he should 
 "reform" the "malefactors of great wealth" 
 whom he was seeking. In what might he not 
 be involved? It's true his program would begin 
 with the exploration of a fascinating tropical island. 
 But how would it end? 
 
 "Whatever the outcome of this business, I'll 
 surely have an interesting experience,' — perhaps a 
 strenuous one," he decided, and he retired for 
 the night. 
 
Ill 
 
 YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 
 
 AT six-fifteen the following morning Crane 
 and Sherrill walked together down the wharf. 
 The men showed in striking contrast; the 
 lieutenant — more than six feet high, long-limbed, 
 broad-shouldered, with heavy red mustache; 
 Kenneth Crane, of moderate height and build, 
 smooth shaven and almost boyish in appearance. 
 In spite of the fact that the two were of about 
 the same age, the Californian might have passed 
 as ten years the younger. He was "eager- 
 hearted as a boy." With a marine glass in his 
 hand and a map in his pocket, he was on tip-toe 
 for the voyage of circumnavigation. 
 
 The morning was magnificent. The trade-wind 
 clouds had cleared away during the night. Long 
 before noon they would be building their white 
 pyramids above the higher hills. But at that hour 
 the sky was flawless. 
 
 "A glorious day for our cruise," Crane 
 commented, as they stood on the landing-stage 
 and watched the Firefly approaching across the 
 harbor. The long triangular shadows of volcanic 
 peaks were streaking the smooth surface of the 
 water, so that the white sides of the launch were 
 flashing from sun to. shade and from shade to 
 sunshine. Far beyond it they could catch a glimpse 
 of breakers on the reef. Their low rumble came 
 
24 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 on the quiet morning air. And then, with a whirl 
 and a swirl and a churning of water, the motor- 
 boat swung to the landing-steps. 
 
 The Firefly was nearly thirty feet long. The 
 after half of the boat was open. Within that open 
 space there ran a semi-circle of cushioned seats 
 upholstered in leather. Crane and Sherrill took 
 their places on the bench. The mechanic started 
 the engine. The cruise was begun. 
 
 They shot across the satin surface of the little 
 harbor, broken behind them by the Firefly's waves, 
 which dashed against the concrete piers, and in 
 a minute more they slipped between the break- 
 waters and felt the long, slow lift of the Pacific 
 swell. Steering almost due west, they shaped a 
 course for Pearl Harbor. 
 
 In twenty minutes the Firefly was five miles 
 from Honolulu. The steady rush of the boat over 
 the water and the put-put of the muffled motor 
 were the only sounds; the only motion was their 
 rhythmic swing over the sea. Crane lay back on 
 the deep leather cushions, his head supported on 
 another cushion which was propped up at an angle. 
 It was a pleasure to study "the lay of the land'* 
 under conditions like these. 
 
 He let his gaze linger on the distant mountains. 
 Their long slopes climbed to a height of more 
 than half a mile. Crane made a guess that those 
 slopes had once been uniform and smooth, and that 
 the deep valleys which now trenched them had 
 been carved out in the progress of ages. He saw 
 that behind Honolulu and its environs lay the 
 deepest valleys, and at their heads he saw three 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 25 
 
 great depressions notching the skyline of the hills. 
 The most southerly of those great gashes was the 
 deepest, falling nearly two thousand feet below 
 the summits of the peaks. Its profound valley 
 lay directly behind the harbor. It suggested a 
 mountain-pass. He said as much to Sherrill. 
 
 "Yes, that valley is the pass through the 
 mountains," Sherrill explained. "A carriage-road 
 runs to its head. But from here you can form no 
 idea of the opposite side of the range. One would 
 imagine that similar slopes and valleys descend to 
 the opposite shore. As a matter of fact, the 
 mountains break off in gigantic cliffs, dropping 
 sheerly from the summits of the peaks to a plain 
 that is only a few fathoms above the level of the 
 sea. At the head of the valley one seems to stand 
 on the brink of a tremendous precipice. But the 
 road has been carried down to the plain. It has 
 been carved in the cliff and carried down a spur." 
 
 They turned their eyes northward to where a 
 long plateau swung its broad curve between the 
 eastern mountains and the western. From where 
 they were they could grasp general effects more 
 easily than they could on land. Now they 
 could see that the island consisted of two mountain- 
 ranges — to call small things by big names — 
 connected by a plateau, and bordered in most 
 places by a low plain. As the island took definite 
 shape and form before their eyes, it suggested a 
 gigantic dumb-bell, with an incredibly thick bar, 
 and with one end nearly twice the size of the other. 
 
 And now the Firefly was approaching Pearl 
 Harbor. As they went, they watched the flying 
 
26 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 fish that flashed across the water, the sunlight 
 glittering on their sides and wings. They saw 
 bonitas leaping from the dark blue waves that 
 rolled their crests of white to where the reef 
 upraised its coral. The sandy shore, the bathers 
 on the beach, the distant slopes, slow rising, where 
 there grew great fields of cane, — all these they 
 saw. And from those far-off fields white wreaths 
 of smoke were rolling, where the fires played 
 through the canes, consuming but the leaves, nor 
 harming the great stems which soon should pass 
 beneath the rollers of the mills that crunch and 
 crush and grind till all the sugary sap is drawn 
 into the steaming coppers. 
 
 "A poetical scene," said Crane. "The day and 
 the view both make me feel like writing poetry," 
 and he half drew a note-book from his pocket. 
 "But I'm afraid there's not much use in my trying." 
 
 They finished their run across the open sea, 
 rounded the buoy, black striped with white, which 
 marked the entrance to Pearl Harbor channel, and 
 turned into the long passage leading through the 
 reef. The lieutenant himself took the wheel to 
 steer the Firefly between the coral ledges. 
 
 "If this boat is to pile up on the reef, I want 
 it to be my own fault," he said in explanation. 
 
 Pearl Harbor has a long, narrow entrance. In 
 that entrance a still narrower channel has been 
 dredged, deep enough to float a battle-ship. Inside 
 the harbor expanded broadly. On a peninsula 
 there stood a little community known by the 
 ambitious name of Pearl City. 
 
 This was the place first identified on his map 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 27 
 
 by Crane, for now he must get down to business. 
 He sat map in hand while the Firefly buzzed up 
 and down the inlets of Pearl Harbor. He reveled 
 in the experience. The out-door scenes, the 
 constantly changing pictures, were like rare wine to 
 him. The graceful inlets, with the rank luxuriance 
 of cane-fields rising from the water's edge, the 
 long leaves trailing in the tide, the sound of the 
 little waves rustling against the canes as the 
 Firefly rushed past, all combined to thrill him like 
 the uplift of great music. 
 
 Travel in Hawaii seemed like a dream of heaven ! 
 Here was the crystal sea, the sapphire sky; the 
 palm branches of the New Jerusalem were waving 
 by the shore! The choruses of cherubim and 
 seraphim seemed to be the only details lacking. 
 Well, he was satisfied as it was. 
 
 Undoubtedly, with a boat like the Firefly, in a 
 smooth sea, they could complete their whirl around 
 the island in a single day. But his hopes were 
 dashed when Sherrill's business compelled a long 
 delay at a naval station. He fussed and fidgetted, 
 as he sat beneath the awning of the launch, or 
 rose and walked up and down the wharf as far 
 as the sentry would permit him to go. He began 
 to doubt whether they would be able to complete 
 the trip according to his schedule, — and his doubts 
 were confirmed when the officer arrived. 
 
 "This trip may take me two or three days," 
 Sherrill explained. 
 
 Crane looked blank at this, for he had started 
 with "his hands in his pockets" both figuratively 
 and literally. Why hadn't Sherrill spoken sooner?" 
 
28 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "I hardly came prepared for a trip of that sort," 
 he said. 
 
 "Oh, don't let that trouble you. We'll chum 
 together. I'll help you out with whatever you 
 need." 
 
 Crane wondered whether they were to spend 
 the night on board the Firefly, and he studied the 
 narrow bench as a prospective sleeping-place, but' 
 didn't wish to pester Sherrill with inopportune 
 questions just then, for they were on their way 
 now, with the lieutenant at the wheel, keeping the 
 boat in the middle of a narrow channel. It was 
 one o'clock before they glided out of the harbor, 
 into the open sea once more. Crane became 
 conscious of an "aching void." 
 
 "I guess we forgot something," he said. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Lunch." 
 
 "Don't you believe it," and at the lieutenant's 
 command, the mechanic produced a large basket 
 and a folding table. The latter was set up and 
 the contents of the basket arranged upon it. With 
 the engine slowed down for greater comfort, they 
 enjoyed their mid-day meal. Now was an oppor- 
 tune time is discuss the details of the trip. 
 
 "When I started," Crane explained, "I had in 
 mind a twelve hours' dash around the shore of 
 the island. Otherwise I should have packed a 
 suit-case. I suppose we'll spend the night on 
 board the boat." 
 
 "We might; but I usually put in somewhere, 
 and spend the night at a hotel. There is a tourist 
 hotel on the north shore, and two more on the 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 29 
 
 east side. Or, if it suits me better, I can put up 
 at a sugar-plantation. There are plantations all 
 around the island, and I am acquainted at all of 
 them. It would suit you to see something of 
 plantation life, wouldn't it?" 
 
 "The more I see of island-life, the better." 
 
 "Oh, I believe I shall be able to do much more 
 for you, this trip, than give you a bird's-eye view 
 of the shore — or a shark's-eye view. We shall put 
 in at one or two of the hotels, and possibly at a 
 plantation. You'll see something of tourist life, 
 and something of plantation life. At the end of 
 the trip, you'll feel quite at home in the island." 
 The lieutenant's tone was decisive. 
 
 It sounded good to Crane. The trip, as he had 
 imagined it, would have amounted to no more 
 than a shark's-eye view of the shore. It was 
 expanding into something better. 
 
 As the Firefly buzzed over the brine, they looked 
 up at steep rocky ridges which ran down to the 
 sea. Between those walls of black volcanic rock 
 were narrow valleys, and at the heads of the 
 valleys the mountains rose to heights of three and 
 four thousand feet, for the leeward range was 
 loftier than the windward. The scene was one of 
 dryness and desolation. 
 
 "Very few showers travel across the island to 
 this coast," the lieutenant explained. 
 
 In the lower end of a valley they could see the 
 irrigated fields of a sugar-plantation. But only in 
 the higher hills were there any signs of a native 
 tropical growth. 
 
 They knew that the breeze must be blowing 
 
30 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 briskly on the island's windward shore. But very 
 little of the wind reached the sea on which they 
 floated. The sky was very clear. Only a far-away 
 fluff of clouds showed on the horizon. The water 
 lay flat and oily, broken only by the deep breathing 
 of the ocean. Three miles to the west went a 
 sailing-vessel, a tall bark deep laden with a cargo 
 ,of sugar, lazily swinging over the swells, as it 
 steered northward on its way to California. Its 
 sails showed dark against the bright afternoon sky. 
 
 Again Crane lay back on the deep leather 
 cushions. He luxuriated in the warmth and 
 brightness, in the color and contrast, all about 
 him. He saw the gracious tropical pictures with 
 the sunshine glowing on the colors. He felt the 
 soft breath of the trade-wind which seemed like a 
 caress. He was as happy as youth and health 
 and the rapid whirl of the boat across the tropical 
 water, could make him. 
 
 "Yachting in the tropics!" he said. "I've read 
 of it; I've dreamed of it, and somehow this seems 
 to fit my notions of what it should be. No wonder 
 there are two yacht-clubs in Honolulu." 
 
 The mountains in whose lee they were, had 
 grown steadily higher until they culminated in a 
 great flat-topped peak, rising four thousand feet 
 above the sea. 
 
 As the boat rounded the north-west angle of the 
 island, their eyes could sweep the full extent of the 
 northern shore. Long slopes could be seen, 
 sweeping down toward the ocean, to break off 
 abruptly in a massive sea-cliff. But, between the 
 sea-cliff and the beach, there intervened a strip of 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 31 
 
 coastal plain, perhaps a mile in width, most of it 
 planted with the brilliant green of cane-fields. 
 
 There was plenty of wind now, and the Firefly 
 plunged in the choppy waves, scattering the spray 
 in sheets. Muffled in rubber coats, the men 
 crouched in the cockpit. As the sun went down 
 on the wind-lashed waves and the roaring reef, 
 they turned toward the shore. 
 
 "We'll stop at the hotel," said Sherrill, and he 
 directed Crane's attention to a structure with a 
 broad white front and pillared portico, which had 
 come into sight. The Firefly, steered by the 
 lieutenant, found an opening in the reef, and 
 running at reduced speed, drifted across the 
 shallow water of a little inlet leading almost to 
 the door. Landing on a lawn which started from 
 the water's edge, they walked across to the 
 entrance. 
 
 Crane eyed the place with the frank curiosity 
 of a man who was "learning the island." He saw 
 that the hotel was a frame building, very much in 
 the American style, except that the dining-room 
 was on the broad verandah, or "lanai" as the 
 Hawaiians call it. The guests were taking their 
 places for dinner. Crane and Sherrill were 
 assigned a table. 
 
 The dinner did credit to the management of the 
 place. Everything was well served. There was 
 plenty of tropical fruit. The tables were decorated 
 with tropical flowers. The lights with their tinted 
 shades, sparkling on white damask table-cloths and 
 shining silver, lent an atmosphere of richness and 
 
32 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 good taste. Crane began to realize what the term 
 "a first-class tourist hotel" meant. 
 
 From the verandah a central hall ran through 
 the building. At the end opposite to the dining- 
 room there was a large parlor, and there the guests 
 gathered after dinner. Some rested in deep wicker 
 rocking-chairs. Others gathered around a whist- 
 table. But their comfort was interrupted. Hawaiian 
 mosquitoes ! 
 
 The hotel had been built on the very edge of 
 a sugar-plantation. In fact, there was a field of 
 cane on the opposite side of the road which ran 
 directly behind it, — and a cane-field is a marvelous 
 breeding-ground for mosquitoes. The net-work of 
 irrigation ditches, with their pools of stagnant 
 water, afforded every facility. Consequently, as 
 darkness came on, hordes of mosquitoes came 
 buzzing across the highway and into the hotel; 
 for the Hawaiian mosquito is one that flies by 
 night. He sleeps by day. At night he is wide 
 awake and hungry. 
 
 Myriads of mosquitoes buzzed above the guests. 
 They mingled their hum with the whisper of the 
 night wind as it rustled the leaves of the sugar- 
 cane a hundred yards away, or crept through the 
 fronds of date-palms just outside the door. As a 
 protection against the pests, three little copper 
 trays had been set, each above the chimney of a 
 kerosene lamp. The lamps stood on the floor. Each 
 tray was loaded with a powdery compound, the 
 fumes of which were intended to drive away the 
 insects. 
 
 But the hotel was run on an economical plan, 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 33 
 
 its good table to the contrary notwithstanding. For 
 parsimonious reasons the powder had not been 
 ignited. Presently a guest touched a lighted match 
 to one of the trays. The two others were ignited 
 likewise. The fumes diffused themselves, and the 
 mosquitoes sailed away. 
 
 But now a petulant and peevish clerk came 
 bustling into the parlor. "Why has this powder 
 been lighted? That's not the way to use it. It 
 mustn't burn. It must only cook above the heat," 
 and he emptied the trays, replenishing them with 
 fresh compound. 
 
 Once more the mosquitoes returned to the attack. 
 Clouds swarmed around each light, many of them 
 striking the hot chimneys, to fall kicking. Those 
 that struck the lamps above the card-table, fell on 
 the cards, to the extreme annoyance of the players. 
 
 But presently a little ash from the lieutenant's 
 cigar found its way into one of the trays. In some 
 equally mysterious manner, the other trays were 
 ignited. The powder began to smolder. A slightly 
 pungent odor diffused itself through the room. 
 Once more the mosquitoes retreated, and the guests 
 sat in comfort. 
 
 Sherrill made a trip to the desk to look at the 
 register. Presently he returned with the information 
 that a party of tourists from the "Nevada", were 
 spending the .night at the hotel. 
 
 "Here come some of them," he added. 
 
 A tall girl, all in white, with a light blue ribbon 
 around her blond hair, crossed the toom. She 
 was accompanied by a young man. A middle-aged 
 couple followed. Crane recognized the party — 
 
34 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 professor Burl, his wife and family. The 
 recognition was mutual. 
 
 "Professor Burl!" 
 
 "Mr. Crane! I'm delighted to see you. I 
 thought you were in Honolulu. I didn't see you 
 on the train, coming out." 
 
 "Oh, I got here by motor-boat." 
 
 Introductions followed. Sherrill and Miss Burl 
 gravitated to a whist-table. Crane found himself 
 paired off in conversation with the professor. He 
 had discovered Burl to be the sort that is a little 
 diffident on short acquaintance. He began to 
 wonder how he should draw him out. 
 
 As Crane rested in a huge wicker chair, a cigar 
 between his lips, the mosquitoes put to rout, the 
 soft breath of the trade-wind drifting through the 
 room, and the rustle of palm-branches and sugar- 
 cane coming in through the windows with the 
 sound of the distant wash of surf on the reef, he 
 grew reflective, and his reflections turned naturally 
 to the subject of sugar. Ah! a timely topic. A 
 recollection of the business which had brought 
 him to the islands, inspired his opening remark. 
 
 "Professor Burl, can you explain," he began 
 rather abruptly, "why it is that sugar has such a 
 corrupting tendency in its effects upon the human 
 conscience?" 
 
 "Has it?" countered the professor, gasping and 
 sparring for time. "I've heard charges against 
 alcohol and tobacco. They even say that Standard 
 Oil is demoralizing. But sugar? Sugar tends to 
 sweeten mankind." 
 
 Crane chuckled. 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 35 
 
 "I guess you never have investigated the sugar 
 industry, and its effects upon big business." 
 
 "I always leave such investigations to legislative 
 committees." 
 
 "Well, wasn't sugar at the foundation of the 
 slave-trade? Men first were stolen from Africa, 
 to hoe sugar-cane in the West Indies and Brazil. 
 And later the products of the plantations had a 
 most demoralizing effect on the New England 
 conscience. Wasn't a tendency to *sand sugar' one 
 of the common failings of the New England store- 
 keeper? 'Sanding sugar and watering rum,' you 
 know. Yes, and they short-weighted the sugar, 
 too." 
 
 'That sounds bad," Burl admitted. "They must 
 have been a depraved set; first mix it with sand 
 and then short-weight it. But was it the sugar 
 tiiat demoralized the store-keeper, or the store- 
 keeper who demoralized the sugar?" 
 
 "Can a man demoralize a commodity?" 
 
 "Well, consider rye as an example. When it 
 is ground to flour and baked as bread, it has an 
 excellent reputation. But when it is diverted from 
 the oven to the still, there is a difference." 
 
 "But the rye itself is the foundation of it all," 
 Crane insisted. "In the same way, sugar was the 
 foundation of the slave-trade, for that trade meant 
 the supplying of labor to the great sugar estates 
 of Brazil and the West Indies. And remember 
 what an effect that trade had on those who engaged 
 in it! It became a question whether the slaver or 
 the pirate was the more undesirable citizen. Oh, 
 sugar is a demoralizer." 
 
36 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "But is it? Your argument is not convincing." 
 
 "I have shown that it was." 
 
 "Which is not to the point. We have left all 
 that behind us, a hundred years or more. The 
 sugar industry had a wild youth, but as it grew 
 older, it grew respectable." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," Crane answered. "During 
 the nineteenth century there was plenty of 'near- 
 slavery* in connection with the sugar plantations 
 of Australia. Did you never hear of *blackbirding' 
 in the South Seas ; stealing natives from the islands 
 of the South Pacific, carrying them to Australia, 
 and compelling them to labor on the sugar estates?" 
 
 "I have heard of that very thing, and I also 
 know that it, too, is a thing of the past. The 
 sugar industry of Australia is now on a 'pure 
 white' basis. And, by the way, I understand that 
 it is more prosperous now than ever before. Oh, 
 the world is getting better all the time, Mr. Crane.** 
 
 "Perhaps it is. But even to-day there are many 
 things in the sugar industry which would hardly 
 stand the spotlight.'* 
 
 "As for instance?" 
 
 "Well, when captains of industry use their 
 privileges as majority owners of the stock, to 
 compel the plantations to buy all supplies of their 
 agencies so that they may absorb thirty per cent 
 more of the profits than the minority stockholders 
 receive. That is an illustration of how, right at 
 the present day, sugar saps the morals of mankind.* 
 
 "Oh, yes! It was the sugar that did it! 
 Nevertheless, my contention holds that conditions 
 have improved wonderfully in the sugar industry. 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 37 
 
 No more *blackbirding*, sugar cultivated by free 
 labor, labor free to come or go as it pleases." 
 
 "Yes, nominally the labor is free, but there's a 
 difference between law and practice. I might cite 
 an incident of which I know; one which happened 
 in this island, not three weeks ago, when fifty 
 Spanish and Portuguese laborers who had bought 
 their tickets for the mainland, were prevented by 
 chicanery from sailing, and were juggled into 
 signing a contract — a contract which has bound 
 them to remain ten years longer in Hawaii." 
 
 "But were those men compelled to remain here? 
 Might they not have taken passage in some other 
 boat?" 
 
 "They could, provided their funds held out. It's 
 true that no one is forcibly prevented from leaving 
 the island. He may go, if he insists on going; but 
 there are many ways to hinder him." 
 
 "And yet that very incident is a splendid proof 
 that conditions are improving," argued Burl. "In 
 the eighteenth century there was black slavery 
 with the horrors of the 'middle passage.' In the 
 nineteenth century there was *blackbirding,' with 
 its attendant brutality and misery. In the twentieth 
 century we raise our hands in holy horror and 
 exclaim in virtuous resentment if a few Portuguese 
 laborers are juggled out of an opportunity to use 
 their steamer-tickets." 
 
 "Very true," Crane admitted. "And yet I still 
 hold that there is an underlying something in 
 sugar itself which casts an evil spell over the hearts 
 and minds of mankind. What is this we hear of 
 the methods of the central sugar business on the 
 
38 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 mainland, the methods of the trust? Don't they 
 manipulate prices down while crops are being 
 bought from the planters, and up after the crops 
 have been delivered?" 
 
 "I admit it. And I have even heard of false 
 weighing to defraud the customs, and of the 
 tapping of water mains near refineries without 
 letting the water companies know of it. Shocking, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "It ought to be so considered. I can think of 
 another instance. Even the honest Vermont farmer, 
 with his maple-sugar, has been known to fall under 
 the evil spell, and to substitute cheap brown sugar 
 until his product is certainly sixty-five per cent 
 fraudulent and the rest under suspicion." 
 
 "And the by-products of sugar," answered Burl; 
 "they have an evil reputation; Jamaica and Santa 
 Cruz rum, distilled from the molasses." 
 
 "I see we're beginning to stand on the same 
 ground," replied Crane. "We are reaching the 
 same conclusion." 
 
 "Are we?" 
 
 "Aren't we? As soon as I bring a charge against 
 sugar, you cap that charge with another. Our 
 discussion has not been a long one, and just 
 consider what a list of evils we already have laid 
 at the door of sugar, — rum, robbery, fraud, man- 
 stealing and a frightful undermining of the New 
 England conscience. Why, when we catalogue all 
 of its bad influences, it appears that the pure, snowy 
 sugar, which you, professor, believed to exist only 
 to sweeten mankind, is Satan himself in disguise." 
 
 Burl leaned back a little farther in his chair and 
 
YACHTING IN THE TROPICS 39 
 
 laughed. Then he assumed a more serious tone 
 than that in which he had been speaking. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Crane," he said, "you commenced by 
 asking me a question, — a question about a topic to 
 which I had never given much thought. And our 
 argument has led me to a conclusion. Doesn't it 
 all come down to this, that sugar, like everything 
 else, is capable of use or abuse?" 
 
 "Suppose you illustrate." 
 
 "Well, consider its abuses first. We may 
 transform it into Jamaica and Santa Cruz rum. By 
 over-reaching, grasping business methods, we may 
 give the commodity itself a bad name; that is, a 
 bad business name. Or we may make a proper 
 use of it, as a necessary and a wholesome food. 
 And we may so develop the industry of producing 
 it as to afford prosperity for a large population, 
 instead of swollen fortunes for a few; a good living 
 for thousands of contended farmers on small 
 holdings, instead of misery and death for hordes 
 of negroes herded on West Indian plantations." 
 
 "Well done, professor. It's up to mankind." 
 
 "It*s up to us. Use or abuse. Rum and 
 *blackbirding* and inflated fortunes vs. refined 
 sugar and a prosperous population." 
 
 And then then the professor added, 
 
 "And isn't it true that for the last hxmdred 
 years, we have been approaching nearer and 
 nearer to the latter state of affairs?" 
 
 Crane had to admit it. With a hearty 
 hand-clasp he parted from the professor, for he 
 and Sherrill would retire early, to be ready for 
 an early start next morning. 
 
IV 
 
 THE ROOF GARDEN 
 
 WHERE gigantic windows of plate-glass looked 
 out on the pavement, was situated the dining- 
 room of the "big hotel" in Honolulu, where 
 Crane had registered. The room was on the 
 ground-floor, so that it might be appraised through 
 the windows by the passers-by — an arrangement 
 made with an eye to publicity. 
 
 On the evening of his return from the "voyage 
 of circumnavigation" Crane sat at one of the 
 damask-covered tables, dressed in a suit of crisp 
 white linen, and fresh from a bath. He had just 
 finished a dinner "fit for the gods" — at least it 
 had seemed so to a man with an appetite sharpened 
 by a day in the open. As he rose from the table 
 his mood was very philanthropic. His soul 
 expanded with his waist-measure. He could almost 
 have been cordial to an officer of the X Sugar 
 Company, and when he saw John Carding's eye 
 fixed on him through the plate-glass window, he 
 answered Carding's bow with a very pleasant 
 smile. 
 
 However, he did not feel expansive enough to 
 care for the young man's society, and when 
 Carding turned toward the hotel entrance. Crane 
 hurried from the room to avoid him. 
 
 "If the cub's after me," he thought, I'll make 
 him hunt for me." 
 
THE ROOF GARDEN 41 
 
 The evening was young, and Crane felt like 
 enjoying the fresh air of the night. He entered an 
 elevator and ascended to the top of the hotel, for 
 on the flat roof there was a roof-garden. 
 
 The garden was shielded by two wind-breaks, 
 made by the building rising a story higher at each 
 end, so as to shelter a long central space where 
 banana trees and fan-palms grew in deep boxes. 
 Rows of smaller boxes held hibiscus bushes. 
 
 It was good to be there. The place was 
 redolent of the languorous tropics. 
 
 There were no dazzling arc-lights. The soft 
 glow of shaded electric bulbs harmonized with the 
 night. 
 
 The night was clear. There was no moon. Only 
 the great tropical stars glowed in a sky which 
 was black velvet. The air was cooled by the 
 gentle stirring of the trade-wind, as it came fresh 
 from hills where showers were falling. 
 
 Honolulu harbor lay only a few hundred yards 
 away. Crane saw the lights of the vessels at the 
 wharves. He saw the riding-lights of a revenue 
 cutter. He noted the fitful flashes from fishing- 
 boats, and the strong glare from the lighthouse. 
 An inter-island steamer was arriving, moving 
 slowly across the water, both of its decks blazing 
 with electricity. Meanwhile, a band was playing 
 somewhere in the city. The breeze brought the 
 boom and blare of the muFic, softened by distance. 
 He heard it die down, and then he heard a roaring 
 native chorus rise, accentuated by thumps on the 
 base drum. The unfamiliar lights, the unfamiliar 
 sounds, the tropical feel of the air, all served to 
 
42 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 impress upon him that he was in an unfamiliar 
 environment. 
 
 To a resident of those regions the night would 
 not have appealed as anything unusual. But to 
 Crane, with the memory of San Francisco fogs 
 still strong in his mind, it seemed marvelous. 
 
 "Spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle," he 
 murmured, as he stretched himself in a deep rattan 
 chair which stood beneath a palm. He was in a 
 mood to give his soul to mellow meditation. 
 
 He thought of the business which had brought 
 him to Honolulu. Inspired by a good dinner, he 
 saw it coming to the happiest of conclusions. With 
 the optimism of youth he could see only his own 
 side of the situation. It never occurred to him that 
 the malefactors might be doing any planning and 
 plotting of their own. 
 
 The place where he lay was in deep shadow. A 
 dozen feet away there stood a scattering of rattan 
 chairs and tables, showing strongly against the 
 darkness beyond. They were unoccupied at the 
 moment. But five minutes later he heard the 
 Qheery voices of a party of guests. A tall girl, all 
 in white, with a light blue ribbon around her blond 
 hair, crossed the roof-garden. A party of four 
 approached. He recognized professor Burl, his 
 wife and family. 
 
 "Our trails cross again," he thought, as he saw 
 them help themselves to chairs, but he lay still and 
 said nothing, for he felt embarrassed when he 
 thought that they must necessarily connect him 
 with a plight into which they had been plunged 
 that afternoon. 
 
THE ROOF GARDEN 43 
 
 They seemed to be in a merry mood. There 
 were jokes and repartee. 
 
 "This isn't eavesdropping," thought Crane. "This 
 is a public place. And evidently they don't mind 
 if they are overheard, for there are others as near 
 to them as I." And then he saw John Carding 
 coming across the roof. 
 
 Carding's lean face was as long as ever, his 
 black hair just as stiff. He was walking slowly, 
 and evidently was looking for someone. His eye 
 caught that of professor Burl. The professor rose 
 with quick courtesy, his hand outstretched. 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Carding." 
 
 "Good evening, professor. I didn't expect to see 
 you here. I thought you were out of town." 
 
 "Then you weren't looking for me. I saw you 
 were looking for someone, and I thought perhaps 
 I might be the guilty party." 
 
 "Of course I'm delighted to see you, professor, 
 but it was Mr. Crane I was after. You remember 
 him on board the Nevada? I saw him in the 
 dining-room ten minutes ago, and they told me in 
 the office he had gone to the roof-garden. You 
 haven't seen him, have you?" 
 
 "Why, no. We arrived here just this minute. 
 Perhaps Mr. Crane will show himself later. Mean- 
 while, won't you join us?" 
 
 "Oh, I guess so,'* and Carding, not very 
 graciously, accepted the wicker chair which the 
 professor offered. 
 
 "You have been out of town, haven't you, 
 professor?" Carding asked. 
 
 Mrs. Burl answered for her husband. "Indeed 
 
44 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 we have! And such an experience! It was like 
 a chapter in a dime novel. And, indirectly our 
 adventures came through your friend, Mr. Crane." 
 
 "Oh, then you know what Crane has been doing 
 with himself," and now Carding was all interest. 
 Mentally he blamed himself for having almost 
 avoided an interview with the Burls. 
 
 "Yes, we have seen a good deal of Mr. 
 Crane,'' answered Mrs. Burl. "But I'll let the 
 professor tell you the story. You know, stories 
 are among his specialties." 
 
 "Listeners hear no good of themselves," thought 
 Crane. "Here comes the story.'* 
 
 "I certainly have a new story on my list," 
 laughed Burl. "But it was a friend of Mr. Crane's, 
 an artillery officer, lieutenant Sherrill, who got us 
 into the predicament." 
 
 "What! have Crane and Sherrill been traveling 
 together?" 
 
 "Yes, they've been circumnavigating the island, 
 in a motor-boat. The way we met them was like 
 this. We went by rail, fifty miles, to a hotel on 
 the northern shore, where we stopped over night. 
 After dinner, we met Mr. Crane, and he introduced 
 us to his friend, the artillery officer. When we 
 said *Good night,' we didn't expect to see them 
 again very soon, for they intended to travel by 
 water, while we went on by land. But the next 
 morning they offered to take my son and daughter 
 in their boat, part of the way to Honolulu, while 
 Mrs. Burl and I set out by motor-car. We came 
 down the east coast of the island. Mrs. Burl was 
 quite enraptured with the scenery." 
 
THE ROOF GARDEN 45 
 
 "Of all the gorgeous scenery I ever have seen, 
 that was the grandest," she interrupted. "What a 
 combination of pictures! The deep, deep blue of 
 the sky, the fleecy white of clouds, the glowing 
 green of hill and plain, with here and there a dark 
 volcanic rock just showing through the verdure!" 
 
 "In fact, all of us have been delighted beyond 
 measure, although I believe Mrs. Burl expressed 
 herself the most warmly." 
 
 When the professor and Mrs. Burl expressed 
 the pleasure which the landscapes had given them, 
 Carding experienced an acute pain. Perhaps it 
 was not as bad as if "a dart had pierced his liver," 
 Jjut he hurried them away from the subject as 
 quickly as he could. 
 
 "Yes! Yes!!! But we fellows who were bom 
 on the island don't think much about it. It's such 
 an old story to us. But where did the adventure 
 come in?" 
 
 "I was just coming to that. Of course, we could 
 have reached Honolulu by noon, but we decided to 
 make a day of it on the east coast. The chauffeur 
 told us of a place, kept by some Chinese, where we 
 could get a fairly good lunch. When we arrived 
 at the place, we found the young people, with 
 Crane and Sherrill, there before us. It was after 
 lunch that the artillery officer advised us to visit 
 a sugar plantation tucked away in the extreme 
 southeastern corner of the island. He told us 
 what a glorious good fellow the manager was, 
 how pleased he always was to see visitors, and 
 what a warm reception he would give us. Well, 
 we got the warm reception." 
 
46 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "But, father, it wasn't Mr. Sherrill's fault!" his 
 daughter interrupted. 
 
 "No; he never dreamed what he was getting us 
 into. Well, to go one with my story, the lieutenant 
 had such a courteous dignified manner, and gave us 
 so positive an assurance, that we never dreamed of 
 misadventure. Away we went, ten miles or more, 
 over a succession of little hills." 
 
 Burl was getting warmed up to his subject. He 
 hitched forward in his chair. He spread his hands 
 for dramatic effect. Carding saw the symptoms, 
 and squirmed inwardly. 
 
 "We topped a little hill," Burl continued. "The 
 machine slid between two high banks of clay, and 
 the plantation came into view. Just as we bent 
 forward to see it better, we heard a hoarse order, 
 *Stop that machine.' 
 
 "Two rough looking fellows, with rifles in their 
 hands, slouched into the road. 
 
 " * Where are you going?' 
 
 " *To the plantation,' the chauffeur answered. 
 
 " 'We'll go with you,' and they mounted the 
 foot-board, one on each side. We tried to ask 
 them some questions, but they were most uncom- 
 municative. 
 
 "Presently we were at the plantation. We 
 stopped near a row of low frame buildings. One 
 of the men went inside. *He's gone to consult 
 the manager,' the other explained. 
 
 "Then the man came back and wanted our 
 names. I wrote them out and gave him the paper. 
 
 "We waited half an hour. Then he came again. 
 *AU of you get out,' he said. 
 
THE ROOF GARDEN 47 
 
 "So far, we had thought our welcome a most 
 chilly one. But now it began to warm up. 
 
 "Our captors escorted us to a little shed. Then 
 one of them explained. 'Now, we don't know your 
 little game,' he said, 'but we ain't taking no 
 chances. You people are going back to Honolulu, 
 and two of the boys are going with you, as soon 
 as they get something to eat, and saddle their 
 horses. While you wait, we'll keep you where you 
 can't play no tricks,' and he opened the shed-door. 
 
 "We would have argued with them, but just 
 then a squad of Japs came up, each of them 
 carrying a ferocious-looking knife." 
 
 "Oh, the most frightful knives I ever saw," Mrs. 
 Burl interrupted; "Nearly as long as my arm, and 
 as broad as my hand, and as sharp as razors." 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Carding. "Those arc the 
 knives they use for cutting cane. But I never 
 thought they looked so bad." 
 
 "Well, they took all the argument out of us, and 
 when the men signalled the Japs, we obeyed meekly 
 while they put on each of us a pair of handcuffs." 
 
 "Handcuffs !" and Carding wondered whether the 
 professor wasn't stretching the story a little, 
 
 "Handcuffed we were, and then into the shed wc 
 were herded. There was a rough wooden bench, 
 which had been hastily dragged inside. Down we 
 sat, the most disconsolate bunch of tourists that 
 ever happened. But the worst was yet to come! 
 
 "We had thought that the guards and the knives 
 and the handcuffs were bad enough. But now they 
 shut the door. The place had a roof of corrugated 
 iron. The sun beat full upon it, and almost roasted 
 
48 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 us alive. There wasn't a particle of ventilation, 
 except through the cracks. I guess the Black Hole 
 of Calcutta was no worse. 
 
 "There we stayed for half an hour, baking 
 beneath the broiling sun of the tropics. Our 
 perspiration poured in streams. We seemed to be 
 melting. I assure you it was no joke. 
 
 "Then the door was flung open. There stood 
 Crane and Sherrill with the manager. They had 
 arrived in the boat, an hour after we had arrived 
 in the car. The lieutenant had explained everything 
 to the manager, who was all apologies now. Our 
 handcuffs were removed. They had been put on 
 us without the manager's knowledge. Our close 
 confinement was due to overzealousness on the 
 part of deputy sheriffs who were guarding the 
 plantation." 
 
 "But why should deputy sheriffs be guarding a 
 sugar plantation?" 
 
 "On acount of labor troubles. Two hundred of 
 their best men had been spirited away," and the 
 professor went on to give the conclusion of the 
 story. 
 
 "Really," he admitted, "the manager treated us 
 royally after he knew who we were. But if he 
 had heard us expressing our opinions of him and 
 
 Sherrill while we were locked in the shed, " 
 
 and the professor shook his head as though in 
 grave doubt as to how to end the sentence, while 
 the rest of the party tittered. 
 
 "Well, now that it is all over, the experience 
 doesn't seem so bad," said Mrs. Burl. "But you 
 can hardly imagine how good it s^em§ to get back 
 
THE ROOF GARDEN 45 
 
 to Honolulu and the hotel with its shower-baths 
 and its chance for a complete change of clothing." 
 
 "To sharpen appreciation, there is nothing like 
 contrast," said the professor. "To enjoy rest we 
 must be weary; to enjoy food we must be hungry; 
 to properly appreciate any good thing, it is 
 necessary to have known its lack. This afternoon 
 we were hot, perspiring, dusty and dirty, a little 
 tired by our long ride. This evening we are back 
 at the hotel, with its shower-baths, as Mrs. Burl 
 says. And how we appreciated its comforts and 
 opportunities for cleanliness! How good our 
 dinner tasted after our day in the open air! And 
 how good it feels to lean back in these chairs and 
 rest and enjoy the cool air of the evening, after 
 the heat and dust of the day!" 
 
 The professor, once started, was a man who liked 
 to monopolize a conversation. But Carding had 
 been on pins and needles for some minutes to find 
 out more about Crane's relations with Sherrill, and 
 now he cut in with a string of questions. 
 
 "Were Crane and Sherrill old friends?" "How 
 did they come to be traveling together?" "What 
 was their object in making the trip?" "What points 
 had they visited en route?" and so on and so forth. 
 The professor could only answer that Crane 
 appeared to be a tourist, intent on seeing the 
 sights of Hawaii, and that he probably had 
 accepted the lieutenant's invitation for a cruise just 
 as anyone else might have accepted, had he been 
 fortunate enough to be invited. 
 
 Meanwhile, Crane lay and listened and asked 
 himself, "How comes that fellow to be so interested 
 
50 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 in my comings and goings?" and the lieutenant's 
 caution recurred to him, "Look out for leaks." "Is 
 there a leak in this business, somewhere?" he asked 
 himself. "It's a good thing I overheard this 
 conversation. I'd hate to play the spy on the 
 professor, but as for Carding — All's fair in war." 
 
 At that moment a page arrived with lieutenant 
 Sherrill's card. Burl and his party withdrew, 
 following the boy. Crane rose and walked to the 
 parapet. Resting his arms on the gray stone he 
 looked toward the harbor. 
 
 As he stood there he kept puzzling his brain 
 over Carding's attitude. The only conclusion he 
 could come to was that his proper course would 
 be to continue to act as he had so far, doing 
 nothing overt until the time to strike should 
 arrive; also to have as little as possible to say to 
 the lieutenant in public. 
 
 His understanding of the subject would have 
 been improved wonderfully, could he have read 
 the thoughts which revolved in Carding's mind as 
 he walked up Fort street. "Perhaps we don't 
 know the names of the holders of the minority 
 stock in the X Sugar Company! Perhaps I 
 haven't been paid for a year to keep an eye on 
 those people! Perhaps we don't know that 
 something is in the wind! Wish I knew just what 
 it is. Well, I'll keep close tab on Mr. Crane from 
 
V 
 
 FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 
 
 NEXT morning, Carding lost no time in "getting 
 busy," as he expressed it. 
 "The first thing to do," he thought, "is to 
 let them know that Crane is here, and put them 
 on their guard," and he inquired by telephone 
 whether Frank Atten, secretary of the X Sugar 
 Company, was in his office. Assured on that point, 
 he took his way down Fort street to the central 
 portion of the city, where he entered an office with 
 the sign "Tropical Investment Company." 
 
 The Tropical Investment Company consisted of 
 Mr. Frank Atten. A smaller sign informed the 
 public that he was also "attorney-at-law." His 
 duties as secretary of the X Sugar Company were 
 so nominal that there was no sign to indicate that 
 he had any connection with the corporation. 
 
 The office was not a large one, nor did its 
 appearance indicate that much business was 
 transacted there. It consisted of a single room. 
 The rear half was railed off. A stenographer sat 
 behind the railing. There was a roll-top desk, its 
 top ornamented with a row of pineapples. Their 
 golden brown and lustrous green lent a dash of 
 color to the room. Frank Atten was sitting at 
 the desk. 
 
 He was a man of large physique and imposing 
 appearance. As an undergraduate at college, he 
 
52 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 had played center on the 'Varsity football team. 
 In those days he had weighed two hundred 
 pounds, and he had been putting on weight ever 
 since. But his frame was so large — he was over 
 six feet high and broad in proportion — that he 
 didn't seem unwieldly. In truth, he was by no 
 means a bad looking man. With his broad, 
 smooth-shaven face and clear-cut features and dark 
 hair, he reminded one somehow of those Flemish 
 and Dutch burgomasters whose portraits the old 
 masters of the Middle Ages delighted to paint. 
 
 He was no vulgar sharper, for, whatever may 
 be said of the shortcomings of lawyers, the man 
 who practises law usually has a good deal of 
 respect for the law. Whatever Frank Atten did, 
 was strictly legal. But he always seemed to get 
 the long end of a bargain, and his reputation for 
 hoggishness was such that there were those who 
 had once been his warm friends who now claimed 
 that had the Prodigal Son applied to him for 
 permission to eat "the husks the swine fed upon," 
 he would have asked the young man to "pay in 
 advance" for the meal. 
 
 He had the build of a hippopotamus, and along 
 with the build, he had the voracity of the animal. 
 Ever since he was a boy he had been guided by 
 two rules of conduct, — never to let a dollar get 
 by him if he could help it, and always to make 
 sure that his expenses were being paid by someone 
 else. For the last six years all the bills of himself 
 and family had been charged to the running 
 expenses of the X sugar plantation. Wasn't Atten 
 secretary of the company? And wasn't he entitled 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 53 
 
 to remuneration? — salary and expenses. "The 
 laborer is worthy of his hire.'* 
 
 Atten prided himself on his address. With his 
 expansive smile, his expansive waist-measure, his 
 dignified tone, and his hearty handclasp, he could 
 win confidence where others would only meet 
 suspicion. With young men he cultivated an easy 
 air of good-fellowship. But everything he did was 
 a pose. He was always "out for Atten." When 
 his smile was most genial, he was surest to be 
 thinking how he "could eat the other fellow up," 
 or at least "upset the other fellow's apple-cart." 
 In short, be exemplified the adage that a man can 
 "smile and smile and be a villain still." 
 
 But the man who is totally self-centered is apt 
 to defeat himself. No matter what line Atten took 
 up, he was apt to "go up like a rocket and come 
 down like a stick." On leaving college, he had 
 entered the teaching profession. Schools outbid 
 each other to attract the ex-football-champion. 
 But, as an educator, he carried so many side-lines, 
 he was interested in so many money-making 
 schemes, that after a short career school authorities 
 advised him to devote himself altogether to finance. 
 Then it was that he had studied law, and had come 
 to the Hawaiian Islands, where he established a 
 business connection with some parties who wished 
 to start a sugar plantation, and who wanted a glib 
 talker to boost their enterprise and a lawyer to 
 watch over its legal affairs. 
 
 But he still carried side-lines, and the Tropical 
 Investment Company was his latest. With a ready 
 How of language he was explaining the advantages 
 
54 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 of the Hawaiian Islands to a prospective investor. 
 He recognized Carding, and called, 
 
 "Just take a chair, John. Miss Smith, will you 
 let Mr. Carding have this morning's Advertiser?" 
 
 From these indications Carding judged that 
 Atten would not be at liberty very soon. He 
 settled himself with the paper, but his nature led 
 him to pay less attention to the news than to 
 the conversation going on behind the railing; 
 especially as he thought he recognized the back of 
 Atten's visitor. 
 
 Atten resumed the thread of his talk. "Yes, sir," 
 he went on, "as I was saying, I have been a 
 resident of this city for the past ten years and 
 some months. All I possess is invested in these 
 islands, and I have prospered wonderfully. I 
 think I can illustrate our situation here by means 
 of a little story. Perhaps you remember what the 
 editor said of his state, — it was Kansas, I believe. 
 He said, *We have no Shakespeares among us, 
 but we have happiness and we have prosperity.' 
 He believed they had good cause to be content. 
 
 "Well, it's a good deal like that here in 
 Hawaii, — perhaps a little more so. I don't know 
 whether any of us shall leave permanent foot- 
 prints on the sands of time, but we have happiness 
 and we have prosperity," and Atten beamed on 
 his visitor with a most winsome smile. 
 
 "Do I understand from that," the man inquired, 
 "that you advise me to settle in Kansas or to 
 settle in Hawaii?" 
 
 "Well, if you want to live in a country where 
 you can eat your dinner in the open air on the 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 55 
 
 verandah every day in the year, I advise Hawaii. 
 But if you prefer a place where you need to keep 
 your cyclone cellar propped open and one eye 
 always turned to windward to see if a 'twister' 
 is coming, — a country where, as the poet so 
 picturesquely puts it, 
 
 *Full oft in whirls the mad tornado flies. 
 
 Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies,* 
 then choose Kansas." 
 
 But Atten's visitor was ready to meet him on 
 that ground. 
 
 "I had no notion of going there," he answered, 
 "but please remember that when Mr. Goldsmith 
 wrote so unkindly of Kansas, he also commented 
 caustically on the tropics. He mentioned 
 
 *Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, 
 
 And fiercely shed intolerable day; 
 
 Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, 
 
 But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; 
 
 Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance 
 
 crowned, 
 Where the dark scorpion scatters death around; 
 Where at each step the stranger fears to wake 
 The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake.* 
 
 "How is that for a picture of the tropics?** 
 "It's not a picture that applies to these islands, 
 however well it may apply to British India,'* 
 answered Atten. "In the first place, there is not 
 a rattlesnake nor any other sort of snake to be 
 found in all this country. Our scorpions are not 
 venomous, and our fields are not poisonous, even 
 if they are luxuriant beyond measure. We have 
 
56 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 no bats, and the thermometer rarely goes above 
 eighty degrees in the shade." 
 
 "Then the only features which you admit are 
 the *matted woods where birds forget to sing.' " 
 
 "I guess we have them, and they contain 
 immense supplies of very valuable timber." 
 
 The visitor gave a short laugh, and then he 
 said, "Well, Mr. Atten, this is certainly a very 
 attractive country." 
 
 Atten needed no further encouragement. He 
 launched out, "And the opportunities which it 
 offers are absolutely limitless; sugar, pineapples, 
 rubber, cocoa-nuts, coffee,— every one of them a 
 money-maker. If handled on a large scale, each 
 is a bonanza." 
 
 "Millions in it, eh?" 
 
 "Millions in it, and millions are being taken out. 
 Consider our markets; they cover the globe. Just 
 see our geographical location," and he pointed 
 dramatically to a map of the world, which hung 
 above his desk. It showed all routes of travel 
 converging to the Hawaiian Islands. Two lines 
 of bold black type informed the public that 
 Honolulu is "The Cross-roads of the Pacific." 
 
 "H*m. Seems to me that map shows that your 
 nearest market is two thousand miles away." 
 
 "But we have water transportation, sir ; unlimited 
 competition. If any line tries to cinch us on 
 freight rates, we cable to Norway and here comes 
 a Norwegian tramp. He gets a bounty from his 
 government for every mile he steams. He can 
 carry our products for nothing, and still make a 
 profit." 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 57 
 
 "Good enough. But tell me something about 
 sugar. Any chance for an outsider?" 
 
 "Sugar! That's our mainstay! Plenty of land 
 left yet ; pay for it on the installment plan. Harvest 
 your first crop in three years. After that your 
 net profit is one hundred dollars per acre per 
 annum. The mill builds a railway to your door, 
 and takes every pound you produce. 
 
 "Or, if you don't want to go in independently, 
 buy stock in some company organized to carry on 
 the business on a large scale." 
 
 "But I've heard some strange stories about 
 the sugar industry. Do you know of the X 
 plantation?" 
 
 "I know there is such a property." 
 
 "At the hotel they tell me it never yet has 
 paid a dividend." 
 
 "Simply because the stockholders prefer to put 
 the returns into development work, buying and 
 planting additional acreage. But when that 
 development work comes to its natural conclusion, 
 just think what a magnificent piece of property 
 they will have! The dividends they don't get 
 now, will return to them multiplied by ten." 
 
 "All right. But I want to learn about all of 
 your products. How about pineapples?" 
 
 "They're easier still. The pineapple industry is 
 the home of the independent planter. Our pines 
 weigh ten pounds apiece, some of them. Get land 
 on the installment plan, and get your plants from 
 the cannery. Each pine has a young plant, 
 growing on top of it.. The canner slices it off, 
 and gives it to you. You stick a few thousand 
 
58 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 in the dirt and nature does the rest. Harvest 
 your first crop in a year and a half, and after 
 that one hundred dollars per acre per annum 
 net. Wish I could introduce you to my friend, 
 John Hennessey. He came to Honolulu, ten 
 years ago, without a cent. Got a job on the 
 tramway as motorman. Saved his money. Bought 
 a few acres of pineapple land. Planted one acre, 
 and hired a Jap to look after it. Next year he 
 planted five. Now that fellow's rich." 
 
 Atten had seized a huge pine from the top of 
 his desk, and flourished it while he talked. 
 
 "But how about coffee?" 
 
 "Coffee! Oh, that's too easy! Sugar, you have 
 to irrigate and cultivate. Pineapples, you have 
 to cultivate. But coffee! You just take the 
 plants into the forest primeval and stick each of 
 them into the ground under the shade of a tree. 
 No irrigation, no cultivation. Just turn them 
 loose in the forest and let them grow. 
 
 "And rubber is just as easy. Cocoanuts, too. 
 All of them moneymakers of the first magnitude, 
 but some of them not very well established here 
 yet. I don't want to give you figures, unless I 
 can speak with absolute certainty," and Atten 
 beamed with a very virtuous air. 
 
 "And does the government encourage settlers?" 
 
 "It surely does. Why, the government main- 
 tains an agricultural experiment station, where 
 every problem you might run up against is being 
 solved for you." 
 
 "But, see here. Here is something I don't 
 understand. If these islands afford such splendid 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 59 
 
 opportunities to rich and poor, why are people 
 leaving them for the mainland? Two days ago, 
 one hundred Portuguese laborers ran away from 
 one of the plantations, and sailed to the mainland." 
 
 "Are you sure of that? Have you seen any such 
 statement in any of our daily papers?" 
 
 "No, sir. I suppose the Advertiser doesn't 
 advertise such occurrences. I heard it from one 
 of the guests at the hotel, — Professor Burl. He 
 had visited the plantation, and got his facts on 
 the spot." 
 
 "Well, then all I can say is that those people 
 were grossly deceived and misled by someone. 
 They'll never be able to do as well on the mainland 
 as they could have done here. But I see you are 
 thinking seriously of locating. If you let me 
 know about how large a sum you could invest, I 
 could advise you better." 
 
 The man mentioned a sum which wasn't very 
 large, but it made Atten's mouth water, neverthe- 
 less. "Never let a dollar get by." he thought. 
 
 "The large island of Hawaii," he announced, "is 
 the true place in which to locate. Why, with its 
 four thousand square miles, it is bigger than all 
 the other islands in the group put together. Now, 
 we're opening up a district on its west coast, 
 equally good for sugar or pineapples, and that 
 district is only four miles from the forest. You 
 could put part of your land into sugar, part into 
 pines, and occupy your leisure time with planting 
 coffee bushes under the trees," and Atten pointed 
 out the location on a large wall-map. 
 
 The man studied it a moment. 
 
60 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "As nearly as I can make out from the scale of 
 this map," he said, "the nearest town is forty 
 miles away. Well, Mr. Atten, if I sighed *for a 
 lodge in some vast wilderness,* the locality you 
 suggest would appeal to me very strongly. But I 
 should prefer to be near Honolulu." 
 
 Atten's winsome smile suffered an eclipse. 
 
 "There you go. That's the trouble with our 
 people. Instead of getting out in the country, 
 where a man can be his own master and make 
 money, labor and poverty huddle in cities, where 
 they can hear brass bands, enjoy the noon-day 
 growler, and envy luxuries they cannot obtain." 
 
 "It seems to me, Mr. Atten, I've seen something 
 like that in print, somewhere. No, I am not very 
 poor, and I don't drink. Beer doesn't appeal to 
 me. But neither does the forest primeval. It 
 seems to me as though a man ought to be able 
 to locate in this island, have his farm out in the 
 country, and his home in Honolulu. I am sure 
 there are people who are situated just that way." 
 
 "Certainly there are. If you choose to pay 
 enough, I guess you can get land in this island. 
 But I can meet you on your own ground. This 
 is an investment company. We are developing a 
 large acreage ourselves. You can put your money 
 into the company. We will manage, cultivate and 
 harvest an acreage proportional to your investment. 
 You can live here in Honolulu with your family, 
 and take the annual returns. Of course, you would 
 not make as much that way as if you went on the 
 land yourself, but you'd do very well." 
 
 No, the man wanted to go on the land himself, 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 61 
 
 but balked at the idea of going to the large island 
 of Hawaii. He had been "reading up about that 
 island. Flows of lava a mile wide come rolling 
 down the mountains. Tidal waves a hundred feet 
 high come roaring in from the sea, and these are 
 accompanied with terrific earthquakes. If the 
 lava doesn't bury you, and the water doesn't drown 
 you, the earthquakes quake your house down and 
 kill you sure." No, no, if he located in the Islands, 
 it must be in the island where Honolulu stands, 
 "and where everything is peaceful." 
 
 Atten almost exploded. 
 
 "Tidal waves! lava flows! earthquakes!" he 
 exclaimed. "Why, my dear sir, such upheavals 
 as you mention may not occur once in a hundred 
 years. Wait," for the man had risen, "I cannot 
 permit you to go without correcting such a 
 mistaken notion. Here's the Advertiser. No, don't 
 laugh! I mean to show you, not what the editor 
 says, but what the president of the Kansas 
 Southern Railroad says. He returned yesterday 
 from a visit to the volcano, and — see, here it is, 
 on the second page — he says, *If there is anything 
 in opportunity, scenery and climate, the island of 
 Hawaii is an earthly paradise.' He's stopping at 
 the big hotel, and if you doubt the paper, go 
 interview him for yourself." 
 
 But the man declined to continue the argument. 
 Assuring Atten that he had already taken up too 
 much of the latter's valuable time, and that he 
 "could not make an investment without studying 
 the matter further," he ended by bidding the 
 secretary "Good morning." 
 
62 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Consequently the latter was in an unamiable frame 
 of mind when he turned to interview Carding. 
 
 "I'd have landed that sucker, sure," he said, "if 
 those knockers at the hotel hadn't been talking to 
 him." 
 
 "I doubt very much if you would. Do you 
 know who he is?" 
 
 "Why, he gave me his card," and Atten took it 
 from the top of the desk and read, "Kenneth 
 Crane." 
 
 "The man about whom I wrote you. The 
 attorney of the minority stockholders." 
 
 "The dickens he is! I had forgotten." 
 
 "Yes, and now he's down here, posing as a 
 tourist and sticking his nose into every comer of 
 the island. I'm here to talk to you about him. He 
 was visiting your office only to work some spy- 
 game on you. 
 
 "Well, if Mr. Crane wants to play the buttinsky, 
 I imagine something will happen to him. But tell 
 me all you know." 
 
 Which Carding proceeded to do, telling Atten 
 how the minority stockholders stood, how they had 
 perfected their organization, and how they had 
 delegated full authority to an inner circle, a circle 
 of which Crane was the center. He reminded 
 Atten how often they had sent protests to Hono- 
 lulu, and he concluded, 
 
 "This time I'm sure they have some big scheme 
 on hand, and Crane must be here to carry it 
 through. But just what it is I don't know. On 
 board the steamer I tried to get into his confidence, 
 but he's a clamshell." * 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 63 
 
 Atten studied the matter a minute, and then said, 
 
 "See here, young man, what are we paying you 
 for?" 
 
 "Well, I did the best I could." 
 
 "But we want results. Results are what we're 
 paying for. Here we've been carrying your college 
 expenses for a year, and you bring us nothing but 
 vague generalities." 
 
 Carding looked so sour at this, that it made 
 Atten pause. 
 
 "It never would do to drive him over to the 
 enemy," he thought, and his manner changed. The 
 winsome smile returned. 
 
 "Never mind, old man," he said. "You did the 
 best you could, and youVe put us on our guard. 
 So those fellows believe they can spoil our 
 game of freeze-out. But, is Crane alone? Has he 
 no one with him?" 
 
 "He seems to be alone. One of the professors 
 from the university is down here. He came in the 
 same boat as Crane, and they seem friendly. The 
 professor's name is Burl. But I am sure he is 
 only a tourist." 
 
 "Oh, that's the party who is advertising the 
 escape of the Portuguese from the W plantation. 
 What sort of a man is he?" 
 
 "He's as harmless as any other college professor. 
 Just let him monopolize the conversation, and that 
 is all he wants. He imagines himself quite a 
 story-teller. He loves to entertain a room-full of 
 
 company with something like . Here; I'll give 
 
 you an illustration." 
 • "Never mind, John. We'll keep the illustration 
 
64 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 for another day. But have he and Crane been 
 running together?" 
 
 "Why, no. They seemed to meet more by 
 accident than by design, when they did meet. But 
 Crane and lieutenant Sherrill have been circum- 
 navigating the island. They spent two days on 
 the cruise." 
 
 "Two days — and Crane has been here only 
 three!" 
 
 "Well, he and Sherrill started off together the 
 morning after Crane's arrival. They gave me 
 the slip completely. I couldn't find out where 
 Crane was, until last night, when I saw him in 
 the hotel. But it was Burl who told me about 
 Crane's cruise, for they had met at different points. 
 Burl thinks Crane is a typical tourist; but, just 
 the same, he hasn't registered at the rooms of the 
 Hawaiian Promotion Committee." 
 
 "That may be because he was slow in getting 
 there. I'll call them up," which Atten proceeded 
 to do. 
 
 In reply to his inquiry as to whether a Mr. 
 Kenneth Crane, from California, had registered, 
 he was told, 
 
 "Yes. He was here this morning. He has just 
 finished making arrangements to join a party of 
 tourists who are going around the island by auto 
 to-morrow. He left the office only a minute ago. 
 Did you want to speak to him?" 
 
 "I'll catch him at his hotel. But, about that 
 excursion; is there room for another?" 
 
 "We have just one place left." 
 
 "Please hold it for a friend of mine — Mr. John 
 
FRANK ATTEN, SECRETARY 65 
 
 Carding. He'll be in the office to settle for it, 
 inside of ten minutes." and Atten turned to 
 Carding. 
 
 "John, I want you to keep right after that fellow. 
 And let me give you a word of advice. When you 
 want a man to tell you things he shouldn't tell, 
 just steer him toward the topic, and get him 
 started talking. Be a little argumentative. Just 
 suggest your arguments in as few words as 
 possible, making it necessary for him to get deeper 
 into the subject in order to justify his own 
 opinions and beliefs. If his suspicions have not 
 been aroused as to your motives, it will surprise 
 you how much he'll give away before he's through." 
 
VI 
 
 MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 
 
 THREE gigantic sight-seeing cars, loaded with 
 tourists, panted ponderously up a winding 
 road which led through a tropical valley. 
 Crane occupied a place on the front seat of the 
 first machine. John Carding sat directly behind 
 him. And among the passengers in the second 
 machine were professor Burl and party. 
 
 Up the valley they went — the valley which lay 
 behind Honolulu and formed a pass through the 
 mountains. On, on, on, ran the road, twining 
 upward at the gentlest possible grade, until the 
 head of the pass was gained and the cars stopped 
 on the brink of a tremendous precipice — the Pali, 
 as the Hawaiians call is. 
 
 The travelers from their airy perch gazed out 
 over the brilliant, many-tinted plain which lay 
 below, out to where the ocean rolled upon the 
 coral reef that bordered the shore. For a score 
 of miles beyond they saw the deep blue of the 
 Pacific, dotted with white caps. 
 
 The conductor of the party arose and lifted a 
 megaphone to make an announcement. After a 
 few minutes delay they would "cross the island, 
 skirt its eastern coast, traverse half the sugar belt 
 on its northern shore, and then turn southward 
 over the plateau and through the pineapple 
 country. The trip would end with a glimpse of 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 67 
 
 Pearl Harbor and a look at its rice-fields. Then 
 the machines would dash into Honolulu." 
 
 "Dash away," said Crane, and away they dashed. 
 By means of a gallery cut in the cliff the road had 
 been led to the plain below. The machines swept 
 down the grade and around its curves until they 
 reached the lowland, where they were surrounded 
 with all the tropical color and picturesque life of 
 Hawaii. 
 
 The machines turned toward the shore. 
 Presently they were racing along the beach. Crane 
 could look back at the mighty mountain-wall, more 
 than half a mile in height, which opposed its 
 vertical front to the trade-wind. 
 
 Tapestried and garlanded from base to summit 
 with a glowing mantle of tropical vegetation; 
 seamed and channeled with a thousand colossal 
 wrinkles running from bottom to top, it presented 
 a combination of beauty and sublimity rarely 
 equalled the wide world over. 
 
 To Crane this trip was a great adventure. To 
 the others is was only a tourists* excursion. But 
 he was young and imaginative, and here he was, 
 exploring the valleys and shores of this palm- 
 studded, coral-girt island, bent on an enterprise 
 which meant the defeat of opponents whom he 
 might regard as hostile giants. He looked on 
 himself as a modern knight-errant. 
 
 Skirting the coast, they reached the northern 
 shore of the island, and turned westward. It was 
 just three hours after their time of starting that 
 the cars stopped before the tourist hotel where 
 Burl and Sherill first had met. On the neighboring 
 
68 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 plantation the noon whistles were blowing. The 
 conductor announced a stop of "one hour for 
 lunch.'' 
 
 It was a luxury to descend to terra firma and 
 enjoy a change of position. The dining-room on 
 the verandah was as attractive by day as it had 
 been by twilight. The dainty tables, the clusters 
 of tropical flowers contrasting with the white 
 damask, and then the well-managed luncheon, all 
 seemed ten times as delightful at that remote 
 spot as they would have seemed in a city. 
 
 At the conclusion of the meal the travelers 
 lingered, resting in their chairs. Conversation 
 passed from table to table. They seemed like one 
 great family party. The sights and scenes of the 
 journey made the main topic. Miss Burl was 
 explaining that she had brought a copy of 
 Longfellow's "Evangeline" with her, and that she 
 and the professor had amused themselves on the 
 way, by writing parodies on some of the verses — 
 parodies reflecting the island scenery. 
 
 "Won't you read us yours?" asked one. The 
 request was echoed by others. It became general 
 accompanied by hand-clapping. Blushing a little. 
 Miss Burl walked to the edge of the verandah, 
 her note-book in hand. She leaned against the 
 low railing, beside a white pillar. Standing there, 
 in her white sailor-suit with its scarlet neckerchief, 
 the turned-down brim of her light straw hat 
 shading her rosy face, she read: 
 
 "This is the land of Hawaii. The cocoanut palm and 
 
 the breadfruit, 
 Waving their graceful fronds that shimmer with green 
 
 in the sunlight. 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 69 
 
 Stand where the ocean breaks on the shore which 
 
 lies in their shadow; 
 Stand like clusters of plumes adorning the tropical 
 
 landscape. 
 Calmed by the coral reef, the dark blue, neighboring 
 
 ocean 
 Glides to the feet of the trees to reflect their forms 
 
 in its surface. 
 
 "In that bright land of Hawaii the trade-wind always 
 is blowing, 
 
 Soothing with sibilant whispers the dreams of the 
 island people; 
 
 Playing with plumes of palms, or rustling the leaves 
 of the breadfruit, 
 
 While its white clouds are bringing to the volcanic 
 mountains 
 
 Sho^yers which descend their slopes to the deep- 
 lying tropical valleys, 
 
 Filling those valleys with verdure and streams and 
 profusion and brightness.'* 
 
 When the applause had subsided, professor Burl 
 was heard explaining that he "didn't believe Miss 
 B. had been quite fair to Honolulu. Why write 
 verses about the island," he asked, "and ignore 
 the city? Now here are the lines that I wrote," 
 and, without waiting for an invitation, he leaned 
 back in his place and read them. 
 
 "In that tropical land, a land of scattered islands. 
 Where the Pacific's blue waves are rolling above the 
 
 coral. 
 Where on the sandy shore the cocoanut palm throws 
 
 its shadow, 
 Where on the fertile plains the plantations of sugar 
 
 are growing. 
 There stands a city whose name recalls a vanishing 
 
 language. 
 
 "In that delightful land which is washed by the 
 
 ocean's blue waters. 
 Shaded with cocoanut groves and cooled by the 
 
 breath of the trade-wind, 
 Stands on the shore of its harbor the city we call 
 
 Honolulu. 
 
70 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 There all the air is balm, and the palm is the emblem 
 
 of beauty. 
 And the streets still re-echo the words of a vanishing 
 
 language. 
 As if they fain would appease the people whose 
 
 haunts tiiey molested." 
 
 One of the guests started to say that some of 
 the professor's lines sounded "more like plagiarism 
 than parody," when the conductor forestalled 
 criticism by announcing that the "machines were 
 ready. All aboard for the pineapple country." 
 
 The cars climbed the grade which led to the 
 plateau, the cane-fields opening out a sea of 
 lustrous green below them, and then rolled 
 away to the southward, along a road which 
 ascended slowly and steadily for eight miles. They 
 stopped when they had gained the very summit of 
 the plateau, nine hundred feet above the level of 
 the sea. 
 
 Broad, sweeping slopes stretched to the hills 
 miles away on either hand, and on the gentle 
 undulations lay pineapple plantations, covering 
 square mile after square mile with their dark, 
 luxuriant green. Here and there rose canneries 
 and the homes of planters. The yard-high plants 
 were set in mile-long rows. Occasionally the eye 
 might catch a glimpse of the arrangement, but for 
 the most part the plants merged into a sea of 
 verdure which blended with the darker green of 
 the tree-covered hills to the east. The mountains 
 to the west were comparatively high and bare. At 
 one point they were notched by a deep gap which 
 resembled on a smaller scale the opening at the 
 head of the valley behind Honolulu. 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 71 
 
 "We call it 'The Gap'," the conductor of the 
 excursion explained. "It's a pass through the 
 western range. There's a road running through it, 
 from here to the west coast. A man can follow it 
 on foot or on horse-back, and some think that the 
 view westward through 'The Gap' beats the view 
 from the Pali." 
 
 "Is there a precipice on the farther side?" asked 
 Crane. 
 
 "Not precisely a precipice, but the ground falls 
 away very steeply, and the pass is higher than the 
 Pali; about three hundred feet higher, for it is 
 fifteen hundred feet above sea level." 
 
 They had turned aside from the main road now, 
 so that the machine might tour a plantation and 
 circle a cannery. The conductor was spouting a 
 stream of facts and figures relating to the industry. 
 
 "How far is it from here to the west coast?" 
 asked Crane, when he had an opportunity. 
 
 "Oh, about twelve miles." 
 
 "It's two o'clock now. I could walk across and 
 be there by six, easily. Could I get a train to 
 Honolulu at that hour?" 
 
 "You could to-day. They're running specials." 
 
 "I believe I'll do it. Anything special on the 
 way?" 
 
 "There's a coffee plantation at the head of the 
 valley, as soon as you have passed the Gap. And 
 there's a sugar plantation at the lower end." 
 
 Crane remembered the plantation on the west 
 coast, which he and Sherrill had seen from the 
 Firefly. 
 
 "Good! As soon as we turn into the main road, 
 
72 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 I believe 111 jump down and strike out to the 
 west. No chance of getting lost, is there?" 
 
 "No, indeed! There's a plain road, and only 
 one road, all the way." 
 
 Consequently, when the cars were ready to 
 resume their course to Honolulu, Crane climbed out 
 with the intention of finishing the trip alone. He 
 looked westward along the way which he must 
 follow. Just then he heard a voice at his elbow. 
 
 "You don't mind if I keep you company. I 
 couldn't help hearing your talk with the conductor, 
 and I decided to follow your lead." 
 
 John Carding stood there. His lean face was 
 relaxed into its nearest approach to an amiable 
 smile. And for once Crane was inclined to welcome 
 his company. New to the island, he felt some 
 slight uncertainty about his ability to find his way. 
 
 "Good enough," he answered. "We'll walk 
 together. I suppose you're familiar with this road. 
 You're a native of this island, aren't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm a native, even if my parents are white. 
 And I've been over this road often enough. When 
 I was a high school boy, we used to organize 
 walking trips clear around the island." 
 
 "I was a little surprised to see you in a tourists' 
 excursion." 
 
 "Oh, I'm run down; feeling seedy. The doctor 
 advised the open air, and, as my father doesn't 
 own a machine, he advised me to take this trip. 
 But I'm glad to shake that bunch. I listened to 
 enough twaddle to last me for a year. And that 
 poetry at the lunch table, that was the limit!" 
 
 "I'm afraid we're going to disagree, already, Mr. 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 73 
 
 Carding. The verses sounded good to me. In 
 fact, those people followed the original so closely 
 in places, that they could hardly spoil it." 
 
 "Well, I guess there's nothing poetical about me. 
 At least, I can't see anything to it when the verses 
 mention nothing but a lot of stupid trees, standing 
 in the dirt. Cocoa-palms and breadfruit! Might 
 as well write about lamp-posts and garbage-cans, 
 for all I can see," from which it is evident that 
 Carding had been bom without any sense of grace 
 or beauty. All the glories of God's great universe 
 were lost on him. 
 
 "Now, if they had mentioned beer," he went on, 
 "or if someone wrote a poem in praise of 
 Manhattan cocktails, I might see something in it. 
 Why, the great English poet, Byron, wrote in 
 praise of beer. I have the lines in my note-book.'* 
 He produced the note-book and ran over its pages. 
 "Here they are," and he read: — 
 
 "For after years of travel by a bard in 
 Countries of greater heat but lesser suction, 
 A green field is a sight which makes him pardon 
 The absence of that more sublime construction. 
 Which mixes up vines, olives, precipices, 
 Glaciers, volcanoes, oranges and ices. 
 And when I think upon a pot of beer — 
 
 But I won't weep! " 
 
 "It seems to me, I might write poetry on that 
 topic myself," he went on. For half an hour Crane 
 heard him mumbling and muttering to himself, as 
 they walked up the long steady rise which led 
 to the Gap. Then he exploded with this little 
 lyric gem. 
 
74 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "Home isn't near. I fear 
 
 "I'll get no beer. That's clear." 
 
 Crane reserved his opinion. 
 
 "In former times, many poets wrote in praise of 
 beer," he answered, "although that sort of verse 
 has gone out of fashion lately. In Evangeline, 
 Longfellow mentions the 'nut-brown ale, that was 
 famed for its strength in the village of Grand-Pre.* 
 And he goes on to describe how the notary 'lifted 
 aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their welfare. 
 Wiping the foam from his lips, he solemnly bowed 
 and departed!'" 
 
 "Good! I must make a note of that," and 
 Carding scribbled in his note-book. "I suppose 
 they'll be turning Evangeline out of the schools 
 next, on the ground that it teaches intemperance." 
 
 Presently he went on. "There's another sentiment 
 which appeals to me, in those lines which I copied 
 from Byron, where he says *a green field is a sight 
 which makes him pardon the absence of that more 
 sublime construction.' The prettiest scenery that 
 ever I saw was a green field. I'll tell you about it. 
 
 "During one of my summer vacations, while I 
 was attending college, I had gone east to Chicago. 
 I had travelled by the Santa Fe, and the last I 
 remembered of California was the San Joaquin 
 valley, with its sand and dust and jack-rabbits; 
 everything barren and sun-scorched; the only signs 
 of life, out in the country, were those long-eared 
 rabbits, crouching in the fields or jumping into 
 the air. You know what that country is like in 
 July, after the crops are in. 
 
 "Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, were no better. 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 75 
 
 But, when we drew near to Chicago, how delightful 
 everything looked. It had been raining only a 
 few hours before — less than that, I guess — for the 
 rain-clouds still hung in the sky and the drops 
 glittered on the clover. We ran between great, 
 deep fields of red clover, where the cattle stood to 
 their knees, — and how good those fields looked! 
 No stupid palm-trees there, standing in a lot of 
 coral sand, with the wind slapping their branches 
 about. Everywhere I saw rich fertility and 
 freshness, peace and prosperity. Why, Mr. Crane, 
 I never saw anything more delightful in my life. 
 I'll admit I may be a little blind to scenery, but 
 for once I saw something delightful to look at. 
 
 "I believe that when Byron wrote those lines 
 about a green field, he was comparing Greece with 
 England. You know Greece has a climate very 
 similar to that of California; so they say. I guess 
 he compared the green fields of old England with 
 dusty Greece, very much as I compared the clover 
 fields of Illinois with the dusty plains of 
 California." 
 
 "The fellow can thaw out, on occasion," thought 
 Crane, but he only said, 
 
 "Plenty of green fields in California in the 
 spring.'' 
 
 "Yes, the grain-fields; I know," answered 
 Carding. "But they never appealed to me like 
 those Illinois clover-fields." 
 
 "Isn't the secret of it this:^ — that the unusual 
 and unfamiliar arouse and interest," suggested 
 Crane. "To Californians the idea of a deep grassy 
 field without irrigation in the summer time, is 
 
76 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 startling; while to people from Chicago, a palm- 
 tree is a phenomenon/' 
 
 "Perhaps that is the explanation. But, speaking 
 of a phenomenon, let me tell you another thing 
 they have in Illinois. It's a curiosity. It's a 
 sort of mosquito." 
 
 "Plenty of them here." 
 
 "Yes, but this variety doesn't sting." 
 
 "Good! It must be a curiosity." 
 
 "And it has a sort of electric light attachment, 
 like an electric torch, on a very small scale. You 
 see them flashing over the fields after dark. They 
 call them lightning-bugs, or fireflies." 
 
 "Oh, fireflies! Yes, I've read of them." 
 
 "Well, they surely do make a fellow sit up and 
 take notice. But — a palm-tree. Why, a palm-tree 
 is just a palm-tree, and that's all there is to it. 
 But, a firefly; that's a phenom." 
 
 Crane nodded, and thought to himself, "He 
 seems a harmless sort of a fellow, with his chatter 
 about clover-fields and fireflies." 
 
 So they went, walking and talking, until they 
 came to the Gap. They had climbed six hundred 
 feet since leaving the machine, but the ascent had 
 been so gradual that only in the last half mile had 
 it been noticeable. Now they looked down a 
 broad valley to the distant sea. 
 
 What a contrast the view presented to the one 
 they had had that morning from the Pali. It's 
 true they stood at the top of a declivity so steep 
 that the impression was that of being on the 
 brink of a tremendous precipice, but there the 
 analogy ceased. Whereas the eastern side of the 
 
 r 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 77 
 
 island, which they had overlooked from the Pali, 
 behind Honolulu, was rendered brilliant by tropical 
 vegetation, the plain being covered with green, 
 while the great perpendicular cliffs were matted 
 with trailing vines or groves of kukui trees, 
 clustering at their feet, or following up the ravines 
 which channeled them; here the vegetation was 
 that of the desert. The hills were great piles of 
 dark volcanic rock, supporting, if they supported 
 anything, only the stunted latana or the prickly 
 cactus, which blended with their environment so 
 as to produce at a distance the effect of no 
 vegetation at all. 
 
 It is true that a large portion of the plain had 
 been reclaimed from its natural condition, and by 
 artificial means, by irrigation, had been turned 
 into riotous fields of sugar-cane. But the cane-fields, 
 although they covered square miles, only showed 
 as a bright patch on the valley floor. On either 
 hand rose great walls of black rock, dreary, 
 forbidding, and utterly desolate. When this old 
 world shall approach its last day: when its ability 
 to support life shall have almost' ceased; when 
 the sun shall have dwindled to a brilliant star, 
 then will such scenes of desolation and despair 
 be common, but not before. If the view from the 
 Pali, behind Honolulu, might be described as a 
 "dream," that from the Gap should be described 
 as a "nightmare." 
 
 With some such sentiments as these, Crane 
 contemplated the landscape. Presently they 
 started to descend into the valley. The trail ran 
 in zig-zag fashion. Here, under the shadow of 
 
78 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the cliff, the ground was not so desolate as 
 elsewhere. Tall ferns were waving by the wayside. 
 
 A snowy tropic-bird fluttered overhead, its 
 scarlet beak and two long scarlet feathers showing 
 in vivid contrast with its white plumage. 
 
 As they went, Carding was racking his wits for 
 a plan to set Crane talking. 
 
 "So far, I have been doing all the talking 
 myself," he thought. "Oh, he's a clam. But why 
 not arrange it so that we stop over for the night 
 at the plantation. Only give me time, and I'll 
 get him started," and he began to delay from time 
 to time, to point out one object of interest after 
 another. Presently they were traversing the valley- 
 floor. The road began to run between fields of 
 cane. Carding indicated the different camps, where 
 the laborers were segregated by races — the Chinese 
 camp, the Japanese camp, the Portuguese camp, 
 the Korean camp, each camp a village of white- 
 washed cottages. He indicated the mill where the 
 cane was ground, and the pumping station which 
 pumped artesian water to irrigate the fields. And 
 he never failed to give his companion an 
 opportunity to express his opinions. 
 
 But sugar cultivation was a novelty to Crane, 
 in spite of his visit to the W plantation. Very 
 unfamiliar with its practical side, he was eager to 
 ask questions, and to learn, rather than to express 
 opinions. And when they arrived at the end of 
 the valley, and entered the little station to learn 
 that the last train had gone, he was delighted to 
 fall in with Carding's suggestion that they stop 
 over for a day. 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 79 
 
 "I'm acquainted with one of the engineers," 
 Carding explained. "I'm sure he'll take us in for 
 the night." 
 
 The engineer was a sociable soul, delighted to 
 entertain visitors who had come so recently from 
 the mainland. 
 
 "It's five years since I've been there," he 
 explained, and he was eager to hear all that they 
 told of California. 
 
 It was fascinating for Crane to find himself 
 suddenly put in complete touch with the isolated 
 life of a plantation. As he listened to the engineer's 
 naive questions regarding the outside world, he 
 began to share his point of view. The singularity 
 and seclusion of the place, its exotic tone, struck 
 him with all their force. There they were, in a 
 remote valley of a volcanic island, surrounded by 
 deep fields of cane, while thousands of miles of 
 ocean lay between that island and the outer world. 
 
 All next morning they drifted over the 
 plantation, and as they went Crane began to talk 
 freely. His companion proved invaluable as a 
 guide, so that a spirit of companionship began to 
 grow between them. 
 
 "You spoke about feeling seedy, Mr. Carding," 
 he said. "Well, I've been feeling seedy for the 
 past six months, but business tied me down. 
 However, I broke the strings at last, and came 
 for this voyage. I tell you, it has been just the 
 thing for me. The ocean and the island between 
 them, with their change of air and scenes, are 
 making me feel like a boy once more. My 
 experience has not been like that of the man who 
 
80 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 spent his vacation at Santa Catalina, and came 
 home, saying, *I went to Catalina for change and 
 rest, but the hotel keepers got most of my change, 
 and the waiters got the rest." 
 
 Carding simulated intense appreciation of the 
 joke, and then ventured, 
 
 "If the island suits you so well, and sugar 
 culture interests you so much, why not settle here 
 and become a sugar-planter?" 
 
 "'I'm afraid the returns from the business are 
 too slow," answered Crane, and then he went on, 
 "I know something about it, for I already have a 
 little money invested in a plantation,." 
 
 "He's talking at last," thought Carding, but he 
 preserved a tactful silence while Crane continued, 
 
 "Ten years ago I bought a little stock in the 
 X Sugar Company, and I have not received a 
 dividend from it so far." 
 
 "That's a shame!" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. You see, the profits are 
 being spent in development work; buying and 
 planting additional land. When that work comes 
 to its natural conclusion, the dividends will be 
 something enormous. What's the use of being 
 dissatisfied when I shall get ten dollars for every 
 dollar I don't receive now?" 
 
 "But I understand that the officers of the X 
 company are getting rich, just the same. I guess 
 all the money doesn't go into development work." 
 
 "Oh, so long as they are making a success of 
 the plantation, it wouldn't do to grudge them their 
 pay and expenses. To successfully handle a big 
 property, is not easy. They deserve all they get." 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 81 
 
 Carding's suspicions of Crane's mission were 
 being lulled to sleep. 
 
 "The fellow knows nothing about the practical 
 working of a plantation," Carding thought. "And 
 he doesn't understand the game of freeze-out which 
 is being played on him. I guess he's harmless." 
 
 Further conversation only confirmed this opinion, 
 and when they boarded the train. Carding decided 
 that he had done enough work for one day. 
 
 "I'll amuse myself with a book," he thought. 
 
 He inspected the train-boy's stock of novels. 
 "The Doom of the Demon Band" did not appeal 
 to him; neither did "Dogged in Newfoundland.'* 
 But he dipped into "Red Men and Rubber." The 
 author had made a frantic effort to write a "best- 
 seller," with a result which was more frantic than 
 saleable, but a sentence caught Carding's eye — 
 "Once more that yelling maddened mob of people 
 galloped across the deck for life-preservers, 
 grappled with each other to get at the boats, and 
 fell pell-mell in kicking, wriggling heaps." 
 
 "This looks pretty good," and he bought the 
 book. He buried his nose in it all the way to 
 Honolulu. 
 
 They had taken the regular afternoon train, 
 which would arrive in Honolulu about the time of 
 sunset. As they went. Crane looked out of the 
 window with eager interest, for this was his first 
 experience of railway travel in the Hawaiian 
 Islands. He was traveling through territory which 
 previously he had only glimpsed from a distance. 
 
 High, razor-backed promontories descended to 
 the blue sea, leaving only a narrow shelf where the 
 
82 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 rails might run. Between those promontories were 
 deep rocky valleys. But soon the hills subsided 
 to the plain. They descended with a long graceful 
 slope, broken only in places with volcanic cones. 
 The train turned eastward towards Pearl Harbor. 
 
 The rails ran through a land of sugar-cane and 
 hemp. Occasionally they passed a sugar-mill, with 
 its white-washed walls and high black stack and 
 its villages for laborers, the cottages standing in 
 long white rows. At one point, a cane-field was 
 burning. The flames — which even under the full 
 glare of the tropical sun, showed an intense and 
 rosy red — seemed to be destroying everything 
 before them. Yet all they did was to burn away 
 the leaves, while the canes remained unharmed for 
 the cutting. 
 
 The train skirted the northern end of Pearl 
 Harbor, and turned down its eastern shore. All 
 along the margin were rice-fields, flooded with 
 water, and dotted with the young plants. 
 Farm-houses with their shade-trees rose like little 
 islands in the flood. Farther out, on the salt water 
 of the Harbor, the white sails of yachts or the 
 white sides of motor-launches could be seen. To 
 eastward the long slopes of the hills rose high 
 and green, crowned with a great white roll of 
 clouds, from which little detached clouds floated 
 to speckle the blue sky. 
 
 Now they were approaching Honolulu. Crane sat 
 on the landward side of the train, and watched the 
 hills. Valley after valley kept opening before him, 
 valleys filled with tropical verdure and affording 
 vistas that stretched to the heart of the hills. And 
 
MOTORING IN THE TROPICS 83 
 
 at last the deepest of all opened out, the valley 
 which lay directly behind the harbor of Honolulu, 
 and he saw the stupendous V at its upper end, 
 notching the mountains to their core. Above 
 that opening there hung a great pearl-white cloud, 
 reflecting all the brightness of the western sun. 
 His eye dwelt on the steep walls of the gorge, 
 clothed with the many tints of the tropical forest, 
 and to his mind came the voluptuous lines of 
 Byron : 
 
 "Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky. 
 In color though varied, in beauty may vie. 
 And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye; 
 Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine. 
 And all, save the spirit of man, is divine." 
 
VII 
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 
 
 THE hotel dining-room made a brilliant showing, 
 for it was vivid with flowers and sparkling 
 with lights which were flashed back by mirrors 
 and by the cut-glass and silver on the damask- 
 covered tables. Behind one of the French- 
 plate windows Carding was seated at a little 
 table which was covered with an immaculate 
 cloth and brightened with a great cluster of 
 crimson poppies, — for Honolulu poppies bloom in 
 April. A waiter was bringing his order. 
 
 It was a thick and juicy steak, done to a turn. 
 And the waiter was inquiring whether Carding 
 would have a cup of coffee with it. "Coffee grown 
 in the Islands, sir" he added. He mistook the 
 young man for a tourist. 
 
 Carding dismissed the suggestion with contempt. 
 "Not on your life," he snapped. "I never drink 
 coffee, and if I did, I wouldn't touch the poison 
 they grow in this island. Bring me beer," and 
 then he added, "Bring imported beer. I dont want 
 the slop they brew in Honolulu." 
 
 Half a dozen tourists at the next table were 
 listening with interest. Carding had raised his 
 voice to a pitch which made it impossible for 
 them not to hear. 
 
 "A nice booster for the Islands is that fellow," 
 the waiter commented in the kitchen, a minute 
 
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 85 
 
 later. "He says Hawaiian coffee is poison and 
 Hawaiian beer is slop. Well, I'll give him Japanese 
 beer, made out of the Lord knows what." 
 
 But, whatever its origin, it looked well with its 
 deep golden-yellow color, as Carding poured it 
 slowly and carefully so as to cause no foam. And 
 the steak was better still. It was thick and juicy, 
 crisp and brown outside, pink within where 
 Carding cut a slice. He was lifting a piece to 
 his mouth when he realized that someone was 
 staring at him through the plate-glass of the 
 window. 
 
 The man who was peering in through the window, 
 had a complexion precisely the color of chocolate, 
 for he was a Hawaiian. Hawaiians are an 
 improvident race, and this representative was a 
 living exemplification of improvidence. His coat 
 was full of holes; so were his shoes. His battered 
 straw hat no longer had a crown. It's true he 
 did not "shiver in the wintry wind," for the 
 evening air was deliciously soft. But he eyed 
 Carding's steak with a wolfish glare that told of a 
 vacuum beneath his belt. 
 
 Carding grinned; "Here, have some, old man," 
 holding the piece of steak to the window, within 
 six inches of the Hawaiian's mouth. Then he 
 transferred it slowly to his own, chewing 
 rapturously. He cut off other pieces in rapid 
 succession, lifting each in plain view, lingering 
 an instant before putting it in his mouth, then 
 chewing with every evidence of gratification. 
 
 "Have a drink, old man?" he asked, and he 
 casually lifted a great goblet of the golden beer, 
 
86 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 held it so that the light might play upon it for a 
 minute, then slowly tilted it towards his own lips, 
 and drank deeply. 
 
 "Here's some for you," and he held the empty 
 glass to the window. 
 
 Oh, how the Hawaiian followed the fate of each 
 juicy bit of steak! How his mouth watered as he 
 watched the beer 
 
 Carding grew reflective. 
 
 "It reminds me of what professor Burl was 
 saying about contrast as a sharpener of 
 appreciation," he thought. "Here I am, well 
 dressed, with money in my pocket, in a comfortable 
 dining-room, and eating just the meal I want. 
 And I can enjoy it a hundred times better when 
 I see that mutt outside, envying me for every 
 mouthful that I swallow. I doubt if ever I enjoyed 
 a meal half so well," and he turned to tantalize 
 the Hawaiian further. 
 
 But the tourists at the adjoining table had been 
 watching this combination of comedy and tragedy. 
 One of them had called a waiter. 
 
 "Here, waiter," he said quietly, "just give this 
 quarter to that poor devil that's looking in 
 through the window." When Carding turned to 
 continue his game, he was only in time to see 
 the man getting the money and scurrying off to 
 spend it. 
 
 But the scowl which was developing on his 
 face, gave way to a smile of welcome. Frank 
 Atten was passing. Their eyes met. Carding 
 rose eagerly in his place, and beckoned, at the 
 same time pointing to an empty chair before him. 
 
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 87 
 
 Atten hesitated for an instant. Then he nodded, 
 and turned toward the entrance. A minute later 
 he was sitting at Carding's table. 
 
 "How comes it you're not eating dinner at 
 home?" he asked. 
 
 "I just got back from that trip this evening/* 
 Carding answered, "and I found that my people 
 had accepted an invitation to go out to dinner. 
 They were gone, and I had to come down town, if 
 I wanted anything to eat. But I*d like to speak 
 about our friend." 
 
 "Is this a good place to talk?" 
 
 "Would it make any difference if he knew we 
 were right after him?" 
 
 "No; I guess he's the one who needs to cover 
 up his tracks; not we. Well, did the machines 
 break down? You say you only got back this 
 evening." 
 
 "No break-down. We left the party. He climbed 
 out while we were in the pineapple country, and 
 struck out through the Gap for the west coast. 
 Of course, I joined him. It gave me just the 
 chance I wanted. I started talking about any old 
 thing, so that he shouldn't think I was trying to 
 pump him, and I delayed him on the road so that 
 he would miss the last train for Honolulu. Then 
 we stopped overnight at the plantation, and I pried 
 his clam-shell open at last. But I think he's 
 harmless. He talked as though he were perfectly 
 satisfied with the situation, — and he knows nothing 
 about the business side of sugar. When I suggested 
 that we stop over at the plantation to see its 
 methods, he was as tickled as a small boy with a 
 
88 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 new kite. You should have heard some of the 
 questions he asked, while they were showing him 
 around.'* 
 
 "Yes. Maybe he's green, or maybe he's deep." 
 
 "Then he gave the best imitation of a green man 
 ever I saw." 
 
 "But what excuse did he give for leaving the 
 party and hiking over the hills? I never before 
 heard of a tourist doing anything like that." 
 
 "Said he wanted to see the scenery. Oh, he has 
 scenery on the brain — he and the Burls, between 
 them. I think he's a little off." 
 
 "Well, it's a pretty good thing for the Islands, 
 John, that there are such people as Crane and the 
 Burls. If everyone had your idea about Hawaiian 
 scenery, the tourist business would be dead in a 
 week. However, that's aside from the subject ; let's 
 get back to business. You feel pretty certain 
 Crane's not in the Islands to make trouble?" 
 
 "From all present indications, that's the way 
 I feel." 
 
 "Well, just keep an eye on him, in a general 
 way, so that you know what he's doing. And 
 meanwhile, my yard-boy's keeping tab on that 
 bunch of Japs who are waiting for orders from our 
 California friends. I pay him an extra dollar 
 each week, and he interviews them every day. 
 They think he hates me. Oh, I imagine we have 
 the situation under control," and Frank Atten 
 pressed a broad thumb upon the table, reducing 
 an imaginary mosquito to tissue. But "there's 
 many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." 
 
 While this conversation was going on in the 
 
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 89 
 
 dining-room, Crane and lieutenant Sherrill were 
 in conference in Crane's room, on the fourth floor. 
 The lieutenant rested in a rocking-chair, his long 
 legs stretched out before him, while he listened 
 to Crane's explanations and questions. The 
 Californian was describing how he had occupied 
 his time during the last three days. 
 
 "I've now spent five days in studying the island," 
 he said "And I feel less competent to go 
 on without advice than I did the day I landed." 
 
 "The island doesn't look quite so small as it did 
 at first, even if it is only thirty-five miles long?" 
 
 "No, sir, it does not, and it certainly is tremen- 
 dously complex. But the more I see of it, the 
 more it fascinates me. You have a magnificent 
 island here, lieutenant, and I envy you for being 
 permanently located in it. In fact, if my plans go 
 through successfully, I should like to locate here 
 myself." 
 
 "But, at present, do you think you know the 
 island well enough for your purpose?" 
 
 "Not quite. Just a little more 'study of local 
 conditions.' Let me explain what I have in mind 
 for to-morrow. I'd like your advice." 
 
 "Good! Go ahead." 
 
 "So far, I've been looking at the island from 
 below. Now, I want to look at it from above. 
 I want to climb a mountain; one which is centrally 
 situated, and which will give me a bird's-eye view 
 down into a number of valleys. I'm interested in 
 valleys — no matter why. Of course, I might spend 
 a week in exploring valley after valley. But in 
 this way I can study a dozen at once and pick 
 
90 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the most promising . Now, as regards the 
 mountains, I have had my eye on the two peaks 
 which overlook the Pali. Is there a trail to the 
 top of either one?" 
 
 "There's a trail to the top of each." 
 "Fine! And which would you advise me to 
 ascend?" 
 
 "Well, the one on the southern side is the higher. 
 In fact, it's the highest peak in the eastern range. 
 But — I think the view from the one on the 
 northern side is more comprehensive. The peak 
 is more central. And the trail is not so long. That's 
 the one I advise. However, let me warn you right 
 here; when you go, take a rubber coat with you. 
 When I climbed that peak, showers nearly 
 drowned me. It may be clear in Honolulu, and 
 the raiin may be falling at the rate of an inch an 
 hour up there." 
 
 "If only I could pick a day when it doesn't rain." 
 "We have to take our chances. The thing 
 to do, is to start early. You may get to the top 
 before the rain commences. But let me make a 
 suggestion. We have a number of aeroplanes at 
 the Fort. They are biplanes of the latest and 
 safest model. We staff officers have been learning 
 to drive them, and they call me pretty expert. 
 There would be nothing to prevent me from taking 
 you up in my machine. You might make an 
 ascent with me, instead of climbing the hills." 
 
 For a moment the offer appealed to Crane as 
 most tempting. In the "Advertiser" he had seen 
 an account of the machines — "big war-planes of 
 great size and amazing stability, measuring 
 
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 91 
 
 seventy feet from tip to tip, and carrying motors 
 capable of developing 400 horse-power/* But he 
 recollected an illustration which the paper had 
 printed, of the "examination of applicants for 
 enrollment in the aviation corps," — an illustra- 
 tion which had shown the applicant strapped in a 
 revolving chair, his head fastened back. The 
 explanatory paragraph had stated that the chair 
 was revolved swiftly several times, when the man 
 was examined for vertigo, — required to find the 
 attending physician's finger, if he could. Obviously 
 aeroplaning was a strenuous affair. Crane began 
 to make excuses. 
 
 "Of course, I'm tremendously obliged to you, 
 lieutenant," he said, "but I've never been up in 
 one of those things. I understand that a green 
 man, on his first trip, finds the motion, noise and 
 novelty so distracting that his ideas are quite 
 confused. I guess " 
 
 "Come to think of it, you're quite right, Mr. 
 Crane," the officer answered. "Let's get back to 
 hill-climbing. I was cautioning you against the 
 rain. Next point; the trail is bad and is partly 
 overgrown with brush. If you want to save 
 yourself, take some Japs with you. Arm them 
 with cane-knives or hatchets to chop brush. Those 
 fellows can chop nearly as fast as they can walk. 
 
 "Another point; if you want to get to the top 
 fresh and unwearied, hire two Japs to carry you 
 in a mountain-chair. The chair is a swinging seat, 
 hung on bamboo poles. You sit on the swinging 
 seat, the Japs take the poles on their shoulders, and 
 carry you up the trail at a dog-trot. You enjoy the 
 
92 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 landscape as you go, instead of spending your time 
 mopping perspiration." 
 
 "Good! I'll have four hatchetmen and two 
 chairmen. One more question, lieutenant; where 
 shall I hire the men?" 
 
 "Oh, there are a number of Japanese employ- 
 ment agencies. But I thought you spoke of a 
 crew of Japanese wfio are waiting for you.'* 
 
 "So I did; but I don't want to communicate with 
 those men at present." 
 
 "Have you a suspicion you're being watched?" 
 
 "I have. If I see them now, I^ " 
 
 "Might give the whole game away." 
 
 "But if I continue to pose as a green and 
 eccentric tourist, " 
 
 "With a tremendous appetite for Hawaiian 
 scenery, " 
 
 "I stand a chance to turn suspicion away from 
 me altogether. For this trip I had better hire men 
 from an agency." 
 
 "Then you'll find some good offices on 
 Beretania street, north of Fort. I don't know 
 anything about them individually, but all are 
 reliable. And in engaging men you'll need to 
 tell them the name of the peak you want to climb. 
 It's a native name, of course. I'll give to you 
 in writing." Which the lieutenant proceeded to do. 
 
 "You seem to be going into this business in a 
 most systematic manner, Mr. Crane," he added. 
 
 "You know what Marcus Aurelius said," 
 answered Crane. " 'Let nothing be done rashly 
 and at random, but all things according ' " 
 
 " To the most exact and perfect rules of art.' 
 
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS 93 
 
 Which reminds me to inquire whether you have 
 decided on a definite program in this business." 
 
 "I have, and I can put it very briefly. IVe 
 known from the first there was no use in trying 
 to handle the case here in Honolulu. But, you 
 know, there are many points in this island that 
 are seldom visited. As soon as I've picked a 
 definite place, I'll induce the men we're after to 
 visit it — no matter how — I don't want to draw 
 you into this too far. Then, with the help of this 
 crew of Japanese who are waiting for me, I shall 
 proceed to persuade them by methods I have 
 called *a little novel'. Once they're cornered and 
 scared, they'll soon see the error of their waysj 
 or we'll hold them till they do. The whole 
 business will amount to no more than a huge 
 practical joke, but it will bring the results we 
 want. As soon as I've picked a suitable spot, 
 action begins." 
 
 "You'll fight fire with fire?" 
 
 "Yes. In dealing with men of a certain stamp, 
 legal measures frequently fail. I am sorry to 
 have to use underhanded methods, but we are 
 only trying to get what belongs to us, and cir- 
 cumstances compel us to use means which are 
 a little novel." 
 
 "Decidedly novel," the lieutenant thought, 
 as he rose, but he only nodded and said "Good 
 night." 
 
 As Sherrill walked down the street, he puffed 
 a meditative cigar. 
 
 "I like Crane. He's a good fellow," he thought, 
 "and he's tremendously enthusiastic over this plan. 
 
94 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 But it seems quixotic to me. His plan is 
 one that looks easy on paper, but only on 
 paper. There ought to be some way of settling 
 the matter without starting a guerilla war. I 
 don't want to see Crane get into trouble. I think 
 I'll have a talk with the president of the X 
 Company," and he stepped into a store, where he 
 called up the president's home. 
 
 "He left here just after dinner," came the 
 answer. "He was on his way to the Cosmos Club. 
 I think you'll find him there." 
 
 "That's only around the corner," thought Sherrill 
 as he hung up. "I'll have that talk this evening.'* 
 
VIII 
 
 THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 
 
 AS SHERRILL approached the club, he saw a 
 heavy limousine waiting at the curb. With its 
 gray hood, gray body and gray tires, it seemed 
 a symphony in gray. Sherrill recognized the initials 
 on the panel as those of the president of the X 
 Sugar Company. 
 
 "He's here," he thought, and entered the 
 club-house. 
 
 The entrance to the Cosmos Club of Honolulu 
 was a massive granite portal, ponderous with doors 
 of polished bronze, for the club-house stood in the 
 down-town district. Its ground-floor was occupied 
 by stores. Within the short hall there was an 
 elevator, and a broad marble staircase with great 
 brass handrails leading to the second floor. 
 
 The lounging-room of the club was on that floor 
 — a glorious room, with dark panelled walls and 
 deep window-seats and windows studded with 
 little diamond panes that had a golden-yellow tint. 
 Thick curtains draped the windows, which were 
 only open sufficiently to allow the trade-wind to 
 circulate. Even at noon only a mellow twilight 
 filled the place — a vague light showing deep 
 rocking-chairs upholstered in leather, and gorgeous 
 rugs and round tables where stood bouquets of 
 crimson poppies. The tone of the room was dark 
 and massive, with just enough color from windows 
 
96 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 and flowers and rugs and a few oil-paintings in 
 gilded frames, to relieve the rest. An air of 
 elegance hung over everything. 
 
 A servant conducted Sherrill to a seat in this 
 room, and carried his card to the president. Yes, 
 the president was at liberty. Would Mr. Sherrill 
 step into the library? 
 
 Within the club library, leaning back in a deep 
 rocking-chair, the president sat, an open volume 
 in his hand, for he was a man who loved reading. 
 And his reading was of a substantial type. History 
 was his favorite field. The volume engaging his 
 attention that evening was "Civilization at the 
 Crossroads." 
 
 He was president of the Cosmos Club, as well 
 as of the X Sugar Company. An elderly man, 
 his hair was gray. His closely-cropped side- 
 whiskers were gray. He was not very tall, and 
 was comfortably plump. He habitually wore a 
 blue serge suit, with no vest, the short coat 
 thrown open. His appearance recalled so vividly 
 a popular cartoon that he was known behind his 
 back as "Foxy Grandpa." 
 
 If he was a "malefactor of great wealth," he 
 looked the "wealth," but not the "malefactor." 
 His expression was mild, and his tone in conver- 
 sation philosophical. In debate he would have 
 loved to produce citations to prove that the money 
 which had been given to Carding's beggar, had 
 been given most unwisely. 
 
 He could afford to view all questions philosoph- 
 ically, for he was well satisfied with his lot in life. 
 The world had treated him handsomely, at last. 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 97 
 
 He had a delightful home in Honolulu's most 
 delightful suburb. He had a peace-loving family. 
 His motor-car pleased him. Being president of 
 the Cosmos Club pleased him better. In short, 
 his home, his club, his automobile and his books, 
 provided him with all that his heart desired. When 
 lieutenant Sherrill entered, he rose with a most 
 benevolent air. 
 
 Sherrill, while not a member of the club, had 
 been a welcome guest on many occasions. Although 
 not intimate with the president, he felt no hesita- 
 tion in approaching him. 
 
 "Welcome to our city," the president was saying. 
 "Have a chair, Sherrill," and he indicated a 
 luxurious rocker. "And will you have a cigar?" 
 offering his cigar-case. 
 
 The lieutenant mentally discounted the effusive- 
 ness, and decided to get down to business at once. 
 
 "I'd like to say a few words to you in regard 
 to the X Sugar Company," he explained, as he took 
 the rocker. 
 
 "The Sugar Company?" and the president's tone 
 was politely interrogative. "I believe that every- 
 thing is well with us." 
 
 "Well, I want to explain that I did not come 
 here to give offense, or to be unkind; but, if every- 
 thing is prosperous, why not declare a dividend?" 
 
 "Simply because we are putting all of the 
 proceeds into development work. We are buying 
 and planting additional acreage. But when that 
 development work comes to its natural conclusion, 
 just think what a magnificent piece of property we 
 shall have! The divid«5nds you don't get now, will 
 
98 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 come in, multiplied by ten. But, if you are pinched 
 for money, lieutenant, I think we can arrange an 
 advance. The day for dividends is bound to come 
 soon." 
 
 The lieutenant reflected, "It's no use telling him 
 that he is trying to freeze out the minority 
 stockholders, because he knows that already. I'll 
 try him on humanitarian grounds," and he recol- 
 lected Crane's argument. 
 
 "No, sir," he answered. "I did not come here 
 with any personal motive. My means are quite 
 sufficient. But, in California there are two hundred 
 Americans who bought the company's stock when 
 first it was put upon the market. Their money 
 made possible the launching of the enterprise. It 
 seems to me you should go a little slower with the 
 development work, setting aside a certain share of 
 the proceeds for an annual dividend. When two 
 hundred hard-working men have furnished the 
 capital which made it possible to carry out an 
 enterprise, don't you think they deserve something 
 more in return than an opportunity to sell out for 
 half what they gave? At present those people are 
 excited over the situation. They are tremendously 
 indignant. Now, if you will change the policy of 
 the company, if you will insist upon its paying 
 dividends, you will be the hero of the hour. You 
 will earn their undying gratitude." 
 
 Here was a topic to debate. The president 
 became philosophical, at once. He had a citation 
 at hand from the volume he had been reading. 
 
 "It doesn't pay to do things for humanity," he 
 announced. "Consider the case of Alexander the 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 99 
 
 Great. He was a great organizer. He planned to 
 make the world over. But does the world admire 
 him? I don't think so." 
 
 "Kindly explain what Alexander did for 
 humanity?" 
 
 "To do that, I shall have to show you first what 
 his father did, for Alexander followed in the 
 footsteps of his father, Philip. Philip unified 
 Greece. He organized it under one stable govern- 
 ment. He found it a lot of petty tribes or states, 
 waging petty wars, the one on the other. He put 
 a stop to all that, and left the country united and 
 peaceful." 
 
 "Yes, but how did he do it?" 
 
 "He did it by war, of course. But, granting that 
 some men were killed when Philip unified Greece, 
 the number was insignificant when compared with 
 the number who had lost their lives in the strife 
 between the individual Greek states. When Philip 
 had finished his work, a Greek could go to sleep 
 at night, sure that when he woke up in the morning 
 he would find a roof over his head. Previously, it 
 had been doubtful whether even the head would 
 be left him. 
 
 "I say that Alexander followed in his father's 
 footsteps, for he undertook to unify the whole 
 world, Philip had been a retailer in the business. 
 Alexander proposed to be a wholesaler. Alexander's 
 idea was that no longer should men be divided 
 into Greeks and barbarians, but that all men should 
 be Greeks. The object of all his campaigns was 
 to establish Greek civilization and Greek culture 
 — art, science and literature — wherever he went." 
 
100 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "Alexander the Great a patron of science!" the 
 lieutenant interrupted. "That sounds like describing 
 an Apache chief as a collector of Old Masters." 
 
 "Nevertheless, the records show it. As a boy, 
 Alexander was a pupil of the Greek scientist, 
 Aristotle. Later, when king, he detailed a thousand 
 men throughout Greece and Western Asia with 
 instructions to follow out the directions of 
 Aristotle in collecting specimens and studying the 
 habits of fishes, birds, beasts and insects. That 
 has a civilized sound, hasn't it? And after 
 Alexander had made himself master of Egypt, and 
 had founded the city of Alexandria, he built a 
 great university in that city, to propagate Greek 
 culture. Professor Euclid was selected as the head 
 of the department of mathematics. And professor 
 Euclid wrote a text-book of geometry, which has 
 remained the model for works of that sort down 
 to the present day. It forms the foundation of all 
 our modern texts. 
 
 "Now to get down to my argument. Do we find 
 Alexander held up to admiration as a patron of 
 art, science and literature? as a builder of 
 universities, as one who sought to make culture 
 world-wide? Are Euclid's Elements pointed out as 
 a monument to his memory? On the contrary, 
 isn't Alexander commonly mentioned as we might 
 mention an Apache chief on the war-path? His 
 ever-victorious Greeks are regarded as no better 
 than a band of marauding Indians. The story of 
 his life is told as the story of a succession of 
 military campaigns, a succession of raids for 
 plunder. No word is said of the plan and purpose 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUF* lOl 
 
 behind those campaigns. Or, if a word is said, 
 that word is not uttered very loudly." 
 
 "Well, I'd rather have been Alexander the Great, 
 and shoulder his bad reputation, than have been 
 a peculating Macedonian army-contractor." 
 
 "Granted, lieutenant But the fact remains that 
 Alexander's reputation with the general public is 
 that of a msn who fought for glory, plunder and 
 power; not that of a man who sought to advance 
 civilization. Try to get anyone to take the broader 
 view and you'll have an uphill task before you." 
 
 "Very true; but I see you have to go back to 
 ancient history for your arguments." 
 
 "Well, let's come down to modem history. 
 I'll give you a modern instance," and the president 
 laid aside "Civilization at the Crossroads," and 
 leaned back in his deep leather chair, while he 
 puffed out a great aromatic cloud, and let his 
 eyes linger on a graceful cluster of pink and 
 crimson poppies filling the brass jardiniere on 
 the center-table. 
 
 "Consider Mr. Harriman," he continued. "When 
 Edward H. Harriman took over the Union Pacific 
 line, the 'great American lemon,' as it was called, 
 that road had a record of rottenness and failure 
 hardly equalled in the annals of American rail- 
 roading. For thirty years the government had 
 been trying to collect the debt due from the road. 
 So far, not a cent had been collected. Under 
 Harriman's management, that debt was honestly 
 paid, principal and interest, aggregating forty-five 
 millions of dollars. Ten years later he had the 
 Union Pacific on a ten per cent dividend paying 
 
102 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 basis. And he had the Southern Pacific paying 
 dividends for the first time in its history. 
 
 "Now, there was a man who got results for the 
 shareholders. In all the vast expenditures of his 
 empire of railroads the charge of graft was 
 unknown. Yet Harriman's financial methods were 
 assailed bitterly. He was hardly what you would 
 call a popular idol. 
 
 "In the United States we have marble monu- 
 ments to the memory of men who led a few 
 thousands or a few tens of thousands of men in 
 war. But, did you ever hear of a grateful public 
 proposing to build a monument to the memory of 
 Edward H. Harriman? And yet he commanded 
 an industrial army of one hunderd and fourteen 
 thousand men, and in the conduct of his roads he 
 planned and pushed through projects as big as 
 the building of the pyramids of Egypt." 
 
 "Then you would suggest that the Logan statue 
 in Chicago, representing General Logan waving a 
 battle-flag from the back of a war-horse, should 
 be replaced with a marble monument of Harriman 
 on the driver's seat of a four-in-hand." 
 
 "It's easy for you to make my argument sound 
 absurd, lieutenant. Yet, I've seen men look much 
 more ridiculous on the hurricane-deck of a cavalry 
 skate than ever they did on that of a four-in-hand." 
 
 "Well, we need not be acrimonious about it." 
 
 "Very true, lieutenant. But, broadly speaking, 
 the ingratitude of republics is proverbial, which is 
 only another way of saying that the public is 
 ungrateful. E. H. Hariman reconstructed railway 
 systems, inspired colossal engineering enterprises, 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 103 
 
 left magnificent railways where he had found the 
 worst in the United States. And while doing all 
 that, he saw to it that generous dividends were 
 paid to the stockholders. He was just the sort 
 of a man you would like me to be. Yet the best 
 name the public had for him was ^undesirable 
 citizen.' I tell you, it doesn't pay to do things for 
 humanity, lieutenant, — it doesn't pay," and the 
 president leaned back in his chair, with an air of 
 complete finality. 
 
 Sherrill watched him in silence for a moment. 
 
 "Philosophy is a great friend and a fine thing 
 when you are master of the situation," he thought. 
 "But I wonder how much his philosophy would 
 help him if those people had him in their power. 
 I wonder what line of argument he will follow if 
 Crane starts to administer that 'physical suasion,' 
 of which he spoke." 
 
 "Perhaps it doesn't pay in the way you 
 mention," the lieutenant said. "Perhaps people 
 are suspicious of their friends and forgetful of 
 favors, although I believe that a great deal of that 
 sort of thing is due to sheer misunderstanding. But 
 let us look at the question from another view- 
 point. Harriman's methods certainly paid in 
 dollars and cents. He himself died worth seventy- 
 one millions. And his railway lines were wonder- 
 fully prosperous. The more money that was spent 
 in building them up and in paying dividends to 
 stockholders, the greater were the net profits. 
 Harriman's business-sense showed itself in his 
 ability to see that, in order to make money out of 
 
104 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 a business, you must put money into that 
 business." 
 
 "Your argument is partly right and partly 
 wrong, lieutenant. We are putting money into the 
 plantation, all the time. We are putting in all of 
 the proceeds, and we are spending that money 
 on legitimate expansion. But if we spent the 
 money in paying dividends which need not be 
 paid; or in paying higher wages to laborers who 
 are willing to work for less, I don't see how that 
 would build up the business." 
 
 "Possibly, if laborers were treated more liberally, 
 they would give better service." 
 
 "I can't see it. That sort of thing is being tried 
 on this island, and it is not giving results. Why, 
 on the Kahuku plantation the laborers' camp is 
 like a park. Their homes are like those of old 
 retainers on a big English estate. Yet they don't 
 work any better than our men. 
 
 "For another instance, look at the W plantation. 
 There the quarters were rebuilt completely, using 
 tongue and groove instead of rough siding. The 
 new quarters were neatly finished and dressed on 
 the inside. The exteriors were painted instead of 
 being white- washed. And what was the result? 
 Why, last week their whole Portuguese camp ran 
 away. One hundred men, with their wives and 
 families, left the plantation in the height of the 
 season. There's gratitude for you! There's 
 appreciation for you! 
 
 "Now, on the X plantation, we pride ourselves 
 on being conservative. Our quarters for laborers 
 are long lines of sheds with earthen floors. Some 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 105 
 
 of our critics have gone so far as to say that our 
 mules have better quarters than our men. Perhaps, 
 in a way, they have. But, consider what those 
 people were used to before they came here. In 
 Portugal, mud floors are the rule with the poorer 
 people. In China, mud floors are found in the 
 homes of many who are comparatively well-to-do. 
 Why, that sort of thing comes natural to that 
 sort of people. They can't be happy without it. 
 Give them civilized homes, and they don't know 
 what to do with them." 
 
 The lieutenant said nothing. Argument with 
 such a man was a waste of breath. 
 
 The president rose. "Forget it, lieutenant, forget 
 it," he said. "Come on into the hall. I left a 
 friend of mine in there, and I want you to meet 
 him." 
 
 The president led the way into the banquet-hall 
 of the Cosmos Club. 
 
 It was the "show room" of the club — its special 
 pride, a room rich with decoration. The inlaid 
 floor was half hidden by a great red carpet. There 
 were lines of high-backed chairs upholstered in 
 red velvet; a long mahogany table, heavily carved; 
 walls of dark teak-wood, elaborately panelled. A 
 musicians' gallery was set in one of the walls, 
 behind three archways; and above the gallery ran 
 a row of arched casements set with cathedral 
 glass. A marble fireplace that was purely 
 ornamental, stood behind the head of the table. It 
 was flanked by tall pedestals of richly carved 
 ebony, where stood great porcelain vases of quaint 
 
106 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Japanese workmanship. Above the mantel there 
 hung a superb oil-painting. 
 
 The picture glowed with all the gorgeousness 
 of the torrid zone. A brilliant effect of palms 
 and ferns and sea and sky, it showed the shore of 
 a tropical island where palm groves waved and 
 ferns covered the ground, and the water, sheltered 
 by a coral reef, lay without a ripple. 
 
 It was a sumptuous picture, and it harmonized 
 with its setting, for all the interior of that club- 
 house told of affluence. And all of that affluence 
 came from sugar. Every bit of it represented the 
 saccharine sap of the island, squeezed out and 
 transmuted into dollars. 
 
 The room, just then, was lit only by a single 
 row of shaded incandescents, which glowed above 
 the oil-painting. Before the picture, and almost 
 lost in the luxurious depths of a great velvet 
 chair, professor Burl sat, note-book in hand. 
 
 He caught sight of Sherrill on the instant, and 
 sprang to his feet, with a ready greeting. 
 
 "So you two gentlemen have met before," said 
 the president. 
 
 "We certainly have, and on more than one 
 occasion," answered Burl. 
 
 "I was showing professor Burl over our club- 
 house, this evening," the president explained, "and 
 he was so interested in this painting that he asked 
 permission to remain here for a while to make 
 a study of it; permission which I was very glad 
 to grant." 
 
 "I have been trying to write a metrical descrip- 
 tion of the scene in the picture," said Burl. "I 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 107 
 
 don't know how well I have succeeded. If you 
 
 gentlemen will permit me to read you the lines, 
 
 I should be very glad to get your criticisms." 
 
 The president hesitated. He liked poetry, but 
 
 he doubted Burl's ability to produce it. Perhaps 
 
 the lines would be more ridiculous than sublime. 
 
 Then he reflected that they promised a diversion 
 
 and a change of subject. He and Sherrill settled 
 
 themselves and prepared to listen. Burl ran over 
 
 his notes; then read as follows: — 
 
 "The foreground showed the blue sea and the land. 
 A seashore where no waves beat on the strand; 
 Hedged by the reef, the water lay like glass, 
 To which there crept deep ferns, a tangled mass 
 Of green, while rose a group of cocoa-palms. 
 Lifting against the sky their clustering fronds. 
 Half clouded and half clear, the sky showed bright; 
 Its clouds were glowing with the sunrise light, 
 And one could sense the fragrant morning air. 
 The sun still hung behind far peaks; some bare 
 And rough, upreared their dark volcanic rocks. 
 High up they rose, stupendous jagged blocks. 
 Elsewhere the slopes were clothed in emerald green. 
 Below them stood a town, where might be seen 
 White walls and spires, just peeping into view 
 Between the tangled tropic trees that grew 
 And waved above the margin of a bay, 
 Across whose smooth expanse there stole white sails." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Sherrill, what do you think of my 
 lines?" he asked. At the same time, he handed 
 Sherrill the notes. 
 
 Sherrill puzzled over the paper, tapping it while 
 he thought. "You seem to have noted all the 
 features in the picture, professor," he answered. 
 "You have them all here, and yet there seems to 
 be something missing. Isn't your description 
 lacking in warmth? You have failed to sum up 
 the impression made by the lustrous blue of the 
 
108 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 water, the emerald green of the trees, and the 
 freshness of the morning sky, toward which those 
 rough volcanic heights thrust themselves." 
 
 **I am afraid that that impression would be 
 one pretty difficult to convey perfectly," said 
 the professor. And Sherrill agreed with him. 
 
 The president was fussing with a note-book 
 which he had drawn from an inner pocket. Now 
 he found his place. 
 
 "Here is a little verse which is a favorite of 
 
 mine," he announced, and he read: — 
 
 "Under heavy eyelids lie 
 Glowing breadths of tropic sky; 
 A cloud-like incense in the west; 
 An isle upon the ocean's breast; 
 Long-crested waves that haste to reach 
 And perish on a snow-white beach; 
 A shining shallop, trim and frail, 
 Borne down upon the spicy gale; 
 
 Two lovers on the ocean vast — 
 
 Two lovers loving well at last 
 Within the shadow of the sail." 
 
 "Now there's a verse which, to my mind 
 breathes the very spirit of the tropics." 
 
 "Who was the author?" asked Burl. 
 
 "Charles Warren Stoddard." 
 
 All three men rose. They descended the marble 
 staircase together. Burl and the president entered 
 the limousine, for the president would leave the 
 professor at his hotel. 
 
 For a minute Sherill remained standing 
 before the Cosmos Club, his tall figure framed in 
 the granite portal. He watched the gray car 
 roll away and its red light wink out around 
 a comer. He thought of the president's complete 
 self-sufficiency. 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF THE COSMOS CLUB 109 
 
 "He thinks himself quite a logician," Sherrill 
 reflected. "But one of these days someone will meet 
 him with a stronger argument than any he can 
 produce. Then he'll find it doesn't pay to drive 
 men too far. At present he's living in a fool's 
 paradise; that's it, a fool's paradise." 
 
IX 
 
 TO THE HILLS 
 
 WHEN Crane left the hotel next morning, 
 he decided to start at once for Beretania 
 street, which Sherrill had informed him was 
 the home of Japanese employment agencies. 
 
 For Honolulu weather, the day was disagreeable. 
 The trade-wind was no longer a delightful spicy 
 breeze, just strong enough to keep the air in 
 circulation. There are times when it rises to a 
 gale, and this was one of those times. High up 
 in the hills the wind was roaring like a hurricane 
 over the crest of the range. Especially was it 
 pouring through the great V of the Pali. Up there 
 a car could hardly have been driven against it. 
 It came flying down the valley, to thrash the 
 palms and rattle the awnings and set dust 
 streaming in the streets of the city. The wind 
 seemed to have snatched all the clouds from the 
 hills, to scatter them broadcast over the heavens. 
 A diffused grayness filled the sky. It was no 
 longer a deep azure dome, contrasting sharply 
 with great white cloud-billows. But to Crane the 
 weather seemed nothing abnormal, for he com- 
 pared it with the bluster of a summer afternoon in 
 San Francisco. It reminded him of home. 
 
 In imagination he could see the pedestrians 
 coming down Market street in San Francisco, with 
 heads bowed, gripping their hats, their clothing 
 
TO THE HILLS 111 
 
 flapping and billowing about them, while cyclonic 
 eddies in the afternoon breeze lifted whirling 
 columns of sand and rubbish and newspapers to 
 the sky. He could hear the howl of the wind as 
 it came around the corner of the Call Building, 
 while canvas signs flapped and tugged and 
 struggled to break loose from their anchorings. 
 In fact, as Crane clutched his hat, he almost felt 
 homesick. 
 
 But he realized that the weather was unpro- 
 pitious for hill climbing. "I'd have my head 
 blown off, if I were on top of one of the peaks on 
 such a day as this," he thought. He decided to 
 spend his time in making all necessary arrange- 
 ments. Then, if the next morning were propitious, 
 an early start could be made. 
 
 He turned into Fort St., where he walked slowly, 
 for it fascinated him to study the cosmopolitan 
 population. The crowd represented the nationalities 
 of more than half the earth. 
 
 Native Hawaiians, Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, 
 Portuguese, Russians, Americans, English, Ger- 
 mans; there was even an occasional turbaned 
 Hindoo. Each race was marked by its manner. 
 Crane saw crafty Chinese, slinking along in their 
 noiseless slippers ; cheeky little Japs, fresh from the 
 cane fields; death-like Koreans, with their pale 
 yellow faces; great, beefy, brawny Hawaiians, 
 marching slowly and stolidly; swarthy Portuguese, 
 with gold rings in their ears; heavily bearded 
 Russians. Each had its own racial tone. 
 
 A group of flower-sellers, with their gorgeous 
 wares, made a brilliant dash of color. They seemed 
 
112 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 to be the center of attraction for tourists. As 
 Crane stopped to study them, he caught sight of a 
 store which abruptly recalled Sherrill's recom- 
 mendation that he provide himself with suitable 
 protection against the deluge of rain which 
 possibly he might meet on the hills. 
 
 The place seemed one where everything and 
 anything wearable was retailed. Crane entered, 
 and had no trouble in providing himself with 
 lubber coat, hat and boots. Ordering them sent 
 to his hotel, he continued up the street. 
 
 He was in the very center of Honolulu's 
 commercial district. As he went, he glanced up at 
 the street signs, wondering whether he had taken 
 the right direction. 
 
 "It was stupid of me," he thought, "to leave 
 the hotel without my map. But here's an officer. 
 I'll ask him for Beretania St." 
 
 The patrolman whom Crane saw was a full- 
 blooded Havzaiian. He was about six feet high, 
 well and strongly built, except that he was 
 carrying fifty pounds of surplus weight. He was 
 dressed in a dark blue tunic, white trousers, and 
 white helmet. On the whole the man had a neat 
 and officer-like air. 
 
 "Of course, he speaks English," Crane thought. 
 "That's the official lingo." He approached the 
 officer. 
 
 "Is this the right direction for Beretania?" asked 
 Crane, pointing up Fort St. 
 
 "Ugh?" 
 
 "Is Beretania St. that way?" 
 
 "Ugh? Me no sabbee." 
 
TO THE HILLS 113 
 
 Crane tried again very slowly. 
 
 "I want Beretania St." 
 
 There was a hopeless look of vacuity in the 
 man's eyes, as he shook his head. Meanwhile, a 
 group of newsboys had gathered. 
 
 "Sure, mister," one of them volunteered. "Bere- 
 tania street one block. That fellow no understand. 
 Want to buy Advertiser?" 
 
 Crane bought a paper, wondering how that 
 patrolman came to be retained on the force. 
 
 "Next time I want information, I'll ask a 
 newsboy," he thought. 
 
 The next crossing was Beretania. Turning to 
 the left, he was in the city's Oriental quarter. 
 
 A sign in English above a door — "Japanese 
 Employment Agency," caught his eye. The place 
 occupied a small frame building. Crane studied 
 it with the same curiosity with which he had 
 watched the crowd. 
 
 Huge Japanese characters in a vertical row, 
 filled a larger sign by the side of the door. 
 Inside, the furniture consisted of a counter and 
 two wooden benches. The floor was covered with 
 matting. Portraits of Japanese military command- 
 ers were tacked to the walls. Above a window 
 two sun-flags drooped, each with its white field 
 and blood-red sun. Three or four Japanese 
 obviously of the laboring class, were sitting on 
 the benches. Plain as the room was, there was 
 a subtle fascination in it which gripped the 
 Californian. The spirit of the Orient seemed to 
 pervade the place. 
 
 The proprietor stood behind the counter. Smiling 
 
114 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 broadly and bowing low, he welcomed Crane. His 
 English vocabulary was not a large one, but was 
 more satisfactory than that of the policeman. It 
 was sufficient for business purposes. 
 
 Crane explained his wants; four men with 
 hatchets to chop trail; two men with a "mountain 
 chair," and he produced a diagram of the chair, 
 which he had drawn painstakingly to scale, show- 
 ing the bamboo poles, connected by a cord, and in 
 the loop of the cord a swinging seat with a foot- 
 rest. But it transpired that the chair was a 
 Japanese invention. One glance at the drawing was 
 enough to enlighten the proprietor. "Yes, he 
 could furnish such a chair. He knew just where 
 it could be had." But he balked at the idea of 
 the men being armed with hatchets. He suggested 
 cane-knives, and a cane-knife was produced for 
 Crane's inspection. 
 
 It was not so ferocious as Mrs. Burl had stated, 
 "nearly as long as her arm, and as broad as her 
 hand," but it looked sufficiently formidable. 
 Imagine a gigantic butcher-knife, with a blade 
 eighteen inches long, three inches wide, and 
 very heavy. With such a weapon, a Japanese 
 can lop off at a single blow a cane three or four 
 inches in diameter. Crane decided that cane- 
 knives would do. 
 
 Now they came to a discussion of terms. Crane 
 would have to buy the chair outright, regardless of 
 the fact that he only wanted it for a day. 
 However, its cost was trifling. And the men would 
 be furnished at two dollars per man. 
 
 "No, sir." Crane knew better than that. One 
 
TO THE HILLS 115 
 
 dollar a day was what men get for road-building, 
 and that was all he would pay. 
 
 The proprietor explained, "Man make road, man 
 work many day, one dollar all right. This job, 
 man work one day, man work very hard, climb 
 hill, carry chair, hill very high. Want two dollar." 
 
 There seemed to be some justice in the argu- 
 ment. A compromise was effected on a one- 
 dollar-and-a-half basis. The men and the chair 
 would be at the agency at six o'clock that evening 
 for inspection. And they would be there at six 
 o'clock the following morning, all ready for a 
 start up the trail. 
 
 Crane was leaving the office, when he met John 
 Carding, who greeted him with well simulated 
 surprise. 
 
 "Why, good morning, Mr. Crane. Are you 
 making a study of the Japanese population of 
 Honolulu?" 
 
 "Only incidentally. I have been engaging some 
 men as trail-cutters. I mean to do a little hill- 
 climbing." 
 
 "Hill-climbing! In such weather as this! The 
 wind will pick you up and blow you into the 
 Pacific Ocean!" 
 
 "Oh, not to-day. But to-morrow I shall try it." 
 
 Carding still looked his disapproval. 
 
 "Which hill are you thinking of climbing?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Crane pointed out the peak. 
 
 "Oh, Lanihuli," said Carding, "I climbed it 
 once. There were a dozen of us in the party. 
 Before we got there, the rain was coming down 
 
116 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 like a cloud-burst. We were all of us soaked to 
 the skin." 
 
 "I mean to get up there during the morning, 
 before any showers set in." 
 
 "Get up there in the morning!! Why, the trail 
 is so overgrown with brush, it will take you all 
 day to fight your way to the top." 
 
 "Oh, I guess not. I am taking four men to clear 
 the way; men who can chop brush as fast as 
 they can walk." 
 
 "A pack of lazy Japs! I have a mental photo- 
 graph of them chopping brush as fast as they can 
 walk! Look out they don't get you up there, and 
 then hold you up with those big knives of theirs. 
 You may never get back to tell about it." 
 
 "You are a most encouraging person." 
 
 "Well, wait and see." 
 
 Crane excused himself and hurried away. 
 
 "Confound the fellow, how he grates on my 
 nerves," he thought. "I'll dodge him next time 
 I see him." 
 
 Next morning the gale had blown itself out, 
 and had left the sky deliciously fresh and clear. 
 At six o'clock Crane was at the agency. So were 
 the Japanese. Crane took a glance at his map, 
 marshalled his men, and led them to the foot of 
 the hills. 
 
 As he went he wondered whether he shouldn't 
 be able to end, or nearly end, his search for a 
 "suitable spot" that very day. He was beginning 
 to be impatient at delay. Yet he knew the need 
 for caution. He was acutely alive to the fact 
 that the least slip might lead him into some 
 
TO THE HILLS 117 
 
 awkward situation. A vague feeling that he was 
 being spied upon had followed him continually. 
 He thought of the previous morning. How had 
 Carding happened to find him? Wherever he 
 went, he seemed to meet that ubiquitous young 
 man. 
 
 Suppose he should see from the top of the hills 
 precisely such a place as he had in mind, and 
 should seek it out, only to find Carding there 
 before him. For a moment the idea was almost 
 unbearable. Then came the thought that, were 
 Carding actually in the employ of the officers of 
 the X Sugar Company, he might be included with 
 his employers, as one of the prisoners. He might 
 be held and argued with, along with the others. 
 
 Unquestionably that would be the solution of 
 the problem. Crane lifted his head and looked 
 hopefully toward the top of the hills. He now 
 stood at the foot of the trail. He reflected that 
 he already knew the island in broad outline. 
 To-day, once he stood at the summit, he might be 
 able to narrow his search down so as to confine 
 it to an inspection of one or two very definite 
 localities. He stopped for a minute, looking up in 
 the direction which he must follow. 
 
 He saw a great triangular block of green earth, 
 rising at a slow angle, and turning its broad, 
 grassy slope toward the sea. To right and left 
 it was cut off sharply by valleys. For perhaps 
 two miles it stretched slowly upward and onward. 
 Then it was joined by a narrow tree-covered ridge, 
 which led perhaps four miles farther, to the top of 
 the peak Crane meant to climb. To ascend the 
 
118 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 first slope would be child's play. But to follow the 
 trail along the ridge would be quite another 
 matter, for there the tropical jungle flourished, a 
 jungle where the ascent would be a continual fight 
 with brush. But, with four men to clear the 
 way. Crane felt himself master of the situation. 
 
 As he eyed the top of the distant peak, his soul 
 expanded with an exultant thrill of freedom. In 
 imagination he saw himself on the heights, over- 
 looking the whole island. Thus far in his journeys, 
 he had been compelled to spend most of his time 
 crawling along the shore or across the plains. 
 He had had a worm's eye view of everything. 
 To-day he should have the viewpoint of an eagle. 
 
 The weather was so fine that he glanced half 
 regretfully at the package of rubber clothing, 
 which was carried by one of his men, and 
 wondered whether he had been wise in bringing it. 
 
 "I'll probably have no use for those things," he 
 thought. He was wearing a white duck suit and 
 a straw hat. 
 
 The Japanese were in the working clothes which 
 they were accustomed to wear in the cane-fields. 
 Their shirts and trousers were of blue cotton. 
 Their boots were heavy and high. They had no 
 hats, but over the head of each was tied a red 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Crane recollected what Sherrill had said as to 
 the advisability of reserving his energy for the 
 top of the peak. He motioned to the men that he 
 wished to enter the chair, and they brought it 
 forward. The four knife-men started slowly up 
 the trail, in advance, clearing away an occasional 
 
TO THE HILLS 119 
 
 guava-bush as they went. The two carriers came 
 close behind them. Crane balanced himself on 
 the swinging seat, resting his hands on the poles. 
 
 The men kept up a continual gabbling. Crane 
 listened curiously to the strange harsh language, 
 every word clicked out by the tongue between the 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 The trail ran close to the top of the valley-wall. 
 As it crept higher and higher, the valley-floor 
 opened out beneath them, so that they overlooked 
 its checker-board of tiny fields. Smoke from the 
 homes hung in gray patterns over the ground. The 
 road to the Pali lay like a white ribbon in the 
 center, running between delightful residences with 
 graceful grounds where grew great shade-trees 
 and rows of royal palms. 
 
 Seen from below. Crane and his party would 
 have looked like no more than a line of tiny 
 specks creeping upward along the edge of the 
 valley-wall. But they were making good progress. 
 An hour after beginning the ascent, they stood at 
 the top of the grassy slope, more than a thousand 
 feet above the valley-floor. And now the real 
 work of the climb must commence. 
 
 Ten minutes were taken for rest. The men 
 improved the occasion by opening the package of 
 rubber clothing, and tieing the different articles 
 to the bamboo poles of Crane's chair. To an 
 accompaniment of jabbering, they produced short 
 lengths of cord, with which coat, hat and 
 boots were tied to the poles. Crane watched these 
 preparations with amusement mixed with satis- 
 faction. He thought they looked business-like. 
 
120 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 This would leave all four knife-men with both 
 hands free for the fight with brush. 
 
 Once more the chair was lifted by its bearers. 
 The trail-cutters plunged into the trail. Bushes 
 and branches began to crash. Crane found himself 
 being carried slowly through the jungle. 
 
 Hacking and slashing their way through the 
 jungle, went the men. Streams of perspiration 
 dripped down their faces, but they showed no 
 signs of relaxing. They were far from answering 
 to Carding's description, "a pack of lazy Japs." 
 The chair-bearers followed closely. Crane almost 
 felt ashamed of himself, as he rested in the 
 swinging seat, comparatively cool and unwilted, 
 waving a gaudy Japanese fan. He was the only 
 idler. 
 
 Now the tropical growth became so dense that 
 it was only here and there that Crane could catch 
 a glimpse between the trees, of the valley below 
 him. But he was conscious of a steady upward 
 progress, and by nine o'clock the party was at 
 the foot of a final ascent of two hundred or three 
 hundred feet, which would take them to the top 
 of the peak. Here the way was so steep that 
 Crane must leave the chair and scramble up the 
 trail with the rest. 
 
 Up— -up — up, they climbed. And now the summit 
 was less than a hundred yards away, while the 
 trail had ceased to rise. It lay almost level, 
 turning to skirt a massive rock which rose to bar 
 the path. Treading a narrow ledge. Crane 
 approached a grassy platform, a dozen feet in 
 width, which lay at the very top. The end of the 
 
TO THE HILLS ^21 
 
 trail was right before him. A few more steps, 
 and he stood at the giddy end. From a height 
 of more than half a mile he gazed out into space. 
 The cliffs descended sheer below. 
 
 "Magnificent! Yes, that's what I call magnif- 
 icent!" he ejaculated, as the view burst upon him. 
 
 What a panorama of peak and plain and preci- 
 pice and bright blue sea was spread below. This 
 was not like peering down into some great chasm 
 or canyon, some mighty crack in the earth's crust, 
 which narrows as it deepens. The view swept 
 over a broad green plain below, and over a broad 
 blue ocean beyond, out and away to where the 
 far dim circles of sea and sky melted together. 
 
 And in all of that picture there was contrast 
 and color. The sky with its white clouds, the sea 
 with its coral reefs, the land with its groves and 
 cultivation; all that he saw told of warmth 
 and brightness and luxuriance. 
 
 Considered as a mountain, the elevation was 
 not high. But the isolation of the place made 
 it seem many times higher. It was as though 
 they stood at the top of a mighty monu- 
 ment, rising twenty-eight hundred feet into the 
 air. The peak was a great block of volcanic rock, 
 buttressed by three narrow ridges. One of them 
 was the ridge over which they had come. The 
 other two descended to right and left, forming the 
 crest of the range. On its windward side the 
 mountain was a precipice, while it showed faces 
 nearly as steep to the valleys lying on either hand. 
 
 The stout trunk of a koa tree grew on the edge 
 of the precipice. Crane took his stand beneath 
 
122 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 its boughs. He fairly exulted as he stood at that 
 lonely point, to which so few tourists had 
 ascended. How insignificant seemed the Pali, 
 lying so far below! Here he could study the 
 island as from an aeroplane, and yet have the 
 solid earth beneath him and abundant leisure at 
 his command. 
 
 The weather was very propitious. The wind 
 was soft. The clouds were not heavy. They 
 did not settle on the hills, but floated above. 
 Great golden shafts of sunshine fell between them. 
 
 Crane had boasted that he would learn to 
 "know the island as he knew the pockets in his 
 own coat." Well, here was his opportunity. With 
 his field-glass in one hand and his map in the 
 other, he stood on the summit of the peak, explor- 
 ing the plains and valleys below, and fixing each 
 feature of the country in his memory. 
 
 And, all the while, he must keep in mind the 
 end and object of his explorations. Hill-climbing 
 with Crane was not a recreation ; it was a business, 
 although a very congenial one. While he 
 scrutinized the island, he passed judgment on 
 each locality with reference to its suitability to 
 his special purpose. And as he considered each 
 place, there was always an objection. He thought 
 how much more complex the problem was than 
 it would seem at first glance. 
 
 "If only this were a story," he thought, "how 
 easily everything could be arranged, and what a 
 lot of work I could save myself. There would 
 be no need for hill-climbing. In a story, I should 
 not have to leave the city of Honolulu to find a 
 
TO THE HILLS 123 
 
 place where those fellows might be held. In a 
 story, I need not be troubled by curious neighbors, 
 unless I wished it. In a story, I could arrange 
 that city and country people alike would be totally 
 devoid of all inquisitiveness. 
 
 "But, in real life, there is a difference. In 
 real life, I must study the country until I find a 
 place where there are no neighbors; where no one 
 will concern himself about anything which 
 happens; a place to which four prominent citizens 
 can be taken, and where they can be held indef- 
 initely, without anyone asking any embarrassing 
 questions." 
 
 He turned his glass from point to point, and 
 mentally reviewed the merits of different sections. 
 In the northwest he saw the far plateau, bounded 
 by the western range. He swung his gaze around 
 to the southeast, where lay the W plantation. 
 
 "A sugar plantation never would do," he 
 thought, "for there everyone makes it a point to 
 know everyone else's business. The pineapple 
 country would be just as bad. I might take them 
 to Fishtail Point. It is sufficiently secluded. But 
 I should have to construct a camp, and the whole 
 east side of the island would be exercised to know 
 what I was about. If I brought them up here, 
 and built a camp, a party of high school boys, out 
 for a 'hike,' would arrive." 
 
 So he reviewed the situation. The broad 
 accessible areas, the coastal plain and plateau 
 were dismissed. No chance to avoid publicity 
 there. The hills were inaccessible, or at least 
 inconvenient of access. But how about the valleys? 
 
124 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 It was true that some of them were thickly 
 settled. But others contained few inhabitants, or 
 none. Crane directed his glasses down into the 
 valleys north of Honolulu. It seemed as though 
 some of them were very quiet. He remembered 
 what he had been told of illicit distilleries, hidden 
 in the depths of the hills. 
 
 "Where you can hide a distillery, you can hide 
 almost anything," he thought, and he decided 
 that his next task would be a critical investigation 
 of certain valleys, which he identified and noted 
 on his map. 
 
 So the morning passed. It was nearly noon 
 now. Crane and his men had brought supplies 
 of sandwiches in their pockets. These were 
 brought out and eaten. After the lunch, they 
 stretched themselves on the deep grass beneath 
 the shade of the kukui tree which grew at one side 
 of the summit. The sun soothed them into 
 drowsiness. What mattered it if they indulged 
 in forty winks before beginning the descent. 
 
 Meanwhile, the clouds were steadily thickening. 
 Had Crane looked to windward, he would have 
 seen a rain squall on the ocean. A drop, splashing 
 on his face, aroused him. 
 
 He looked across the Pali and saw the peak on 
 the opposite side, shrouded in a grey mist. To 
 windward he saw the shore blotted out by rain. 
 All that the lieutenant and Carding had said about 
 tropical downpours, came back to him. 
 
 There was no time to be lost. He snatched out 
 his knife and cut the cords which held the rubber 
 clothing to the poles. In a twinkling coat, hat 
 
TO THE HILLS 125 
 
 and boots were on, and he was scrambling down 
 the steep rocky trail which led to the ridge below, 
 — the ridge over which they had come. 
 
 The men were still more eager. While Crane 
 had some protection against the weather, they had 
 none. They were the more anxious to escape the 
 storm, because their experience with tropical 
 showers had been limited. Their work had been 
 in the cane-fields, where the rainfall is compara- 
 tively light, so light that irrigation is necessary. 
 They rushed toward the lower levels. 
 
 Just as they gained the ridge, they looked back 
 to see a gray swirl of vapor swing over the peak 
 they had left. The summit was blotted out in an 
 instant. And then the deluge came roaring down. 
 
 A frightened howl rose from the Japanese. All 
 broke into a run. Crane and his men dashed down 
 the trail together. 
 
 The abruptness of the change was almost 
 paralyzing. Five minutes before they had had 
 the blue tropical sky above them, while before 
 them the tropical sunlight glowed on valleys and 
 hills and distant harbor and wide-spreading sweep 
 of ocean. Then, at a single surge, a veil was 
 drawn around them. The blinding shower 
 wrapped the whole party in its gray embrace. 
 They could not see a hundred feet away. 
 
 The wind was not high, but the rain was terrific. 
 Crane knew that, on the plateau, rain sometimes 
 fell at the rate of an inch an hour. Here it was 
 raining at the rate of two inches an hour. Running 
 was of no use. In an instant all of the Japs were 
 soaked to the skin, while Crane, who had thought 
 
126 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 himself secure in his rubber costume, began to 
 feel little chilly trickles creeping down inside his 
 coat. Along the trail the trees streamed 
 cataracts. Liquid diamonds dashed from every 
 leaf. Every little depression in the ground stood 
 as full of water as it could hold. Crane sheltered 
 his note-book in an inside pocket, but his map 
 was being reduced to pulp. 
 
 In such fashion, groping beneath the streaming 
 trees and floundering down a trail in which a 
 brook was running, they plodded toward the 
 plain. There was no cessation of the downpour, 
 only a gradual diminution. The rain still was 
 falling heavily when they reached the streets of 
 Honolulu. 
 
 And there was John Carding, comfortably dry 
 beneath an expansive umbrella. An expansive 
 grin overspread his narrow face, as he inquired, — 
 "Well, Mr. Crane, did you finish your hill-climbing 
 before the rain began?" 
 
 Crane passed him without speaking. 
 
 "A few more days," he thought, "and then " 
 
X 
 
 THE BUNGALOW 
 
 CHANGE renews the elasticity of the mind and 
 sharpens the edge of the will. As Crane sat 
 at the breakfast-table the following morning, 
 tuned up by his varied experiences of the last few 
 days, with their continual whirl of change of 
 scene and change of plan, he felt equal to any 
 enterprise. His mind was actively at work 
 planning a program for the day. 
 
 To find a secluded spot, where a camp might be 
 constructed, — that was his problem. 
 
 Or — better still — perhaps he could find a secluded 
 cottage, which might be rented. No promising 
 possibility should be overlooked. 
 
 "To-day," he thought, "instead of exulting on the 
 crest of the hills, I'll explore the depths of the 
 valleys," and when he left the hotel he turned 
 toward a car-line which would take him to the 
 vicinity he had marked on his map the day before. 
 
 The car could take him only to the end of the 
 plain on which Honolulu stands. Residents of 
 that city know that Honolulu stands on a strip of 
 land six miles long, lying between the hills and 
 the sea. On the south this plain is bounded by 
 the great extinct crater of Diamond Head. There 
 the plain is two miles wide. At its opposite 
 end it has narrowed to one mile. 
 
128 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Of course, only a part of this area has been 
 built upon. The bulk of the city, with all its 
 crowded Oriental quarter, is near the harbor. A 
 long avenue, fringed with homes stretches for four 
 miles in the direction of Diamond Head. The 
 same avenue extends northward from the harbor, 
 for two miles, to a point just outside the city 
 limits. The King street cars traverse this avenue. 
 
 Half an hour after leaving his hotel, Crane was 
 at the northern end of the line. 
 
 The scene was very rural. A wagon-road, 
 rambling between rice-fields, stretched before him. 
 He intended to follow the road to the polo-ground, 
 for polo is no longer popular in Honolulu, and 
 Crane had marked the valley containing the polo- 
 field as "very secluded." 
 
 It was a typical country road, ascending and 
 descending gently. Crane met a pair of Chinese 
 who were bringing a wagon-load of ducks to town. 
 In a field he saw a group of Chinese water- 
 buffaloes. Presently the road was winding along 
 the bank of a stream. 
 
 The stream ran through a miniature canyon, 
 perhaps a hundred feet deep and a hundred yards 
 wide. The vertical walls of the canyon were built 
 of distinct layers of a very soft yellowish rock, 
 which Crane could break between his hands. The 
 ground was covered with a jungle of palms and 
 algeroba trees. Here and there a home stood 
 beneath the branches. 
 
 Guided by his map, Crane followed the road 
 until a track turned off toward the polo-field. But 
 he hesitated before entering the valley. Why not 
 
THE BUNGALOW 129 
 
 get a better notion of the ground over which he 
 had come? He turned to the left, and climbed a 
 low ridge. 
 
 It was a curious picture which he saw from the 
 top of the ridge. At least it seemed curious to one 
 unused to a volcanic country. He was standing 
 on the dividing wall between two wide craters. 
 Their walls were comparatively low, rising nowhere 
 more than two or three hundred feet. Their rings 
 enclosed wide areas. 
 
 A lake lay in the center of one of the rings. 
 Crane knew it from his map as Salt Lake crater, 
 so-called because the brine of the ocean had seeped 
 into the central space. The other crater lay at 
 a higher level, with all its area covered with fields 
 of sugar-cane. In fact, there were cane-fields on 
 the margin of the Salt Lake, rising from the 
 water's edge to cover the low slopes of the crater 
 wall. Every available foot of land had been 
 utilized for sugar. 
 
 The sparkling lake, crisped by the morning air, 
 the green fields contrasting with the dark layers 
 of volcanic rock which rose rough and ragged, 
 conspired to produce an effect which struck Crane 
 as very novel. 
 
 From where he stood he could look down the 
 canyon up which he had come. He saw that it 
 lay squarely between the foot of the hills and the 
 wall of one of the craters. He saw that the stream 
 coming from the direction of the polo-ground, 
 turned sharply at right angles into the canyon. 
 The explanation burst upon him. 
 
130 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 The craters had been formed late in the history 
 of the island, by outbursts of volcanic mud, 
 squeezed up through the reef. The mud, flung 
 against the edge of the hills, had blocked the 
 entrance to the valley, where a lake had been 
 formed, which, seeking an outlet, eventually over- 
 flowed the barrier. Its outlet dug the canyon. He 
 understood now why the canyon wall was of 
 material so very different from the hard, heavy 
 rock of which the hills were made. The canyon 
 wall was nothing more than dried mud, hardened 
 to a soft rock. 
 
 Crane descended to the road, and walked toward 
 the polo-ground. His eye followed the slope of 
 the crater-wall. He could see where the volcanic 
 mud had flowed into the valley. An analogy 
 would have been a porcelain dish, containing 
 hardened sealing wax. No one, seeing such a 
 combination, would need a scientific education to 
 enable him to understand that the dish had been 
 made first, and the sealing wax had been poured 
 into it, where it had hardened. It was just as 
 clear that the volcanic mud had rolled into the 
 lower end of the valley. 
 
 The polo-ground lay where the bed of the lake 
 had been. Smooth as a floor it lay, covered with 
 close turf. On either side rose the valley walls, — 
 great, heavy layers of volcanic rock, where wave 
 after wave of white-hot lava had rolled down 
 from the crest of the hills, to cool and harden 
 into stone. 
 
 All of which was interesting enough in its way. 
 Exploration fascinated Crane. Was he in danger 
 
THE BUNGALOW 131 
 
 of being side-tracked? of becoming "more inter- 
 ested in making a study of local conditions than in 
 bearding the lion?" He had not set out to look 
 for lava-flows. 
 
 However, he set his face resolutely up the 
 valley, following a well marked trail. 
 
 But as he went he saw a cocoa-palm which 
 grew in so curious a fashion that it tempted him 
 to linger. 
 
 It is unusual to find a cocoanut-palm far from the 
 shore, but here was one, growing in the valley. 
 At some time, not very recent, it had been blown 
 down. Its roots had retained a grip on the earth, 
 and the tree had commenced a fresh growth. Now, 
 half its length lay prone on the ground, while the 
 newer half rose at right angles beneath the 
 cluster of fronds. The tree made a fantastic 
 object. Crane studied it for a minute. Beyond 
 the tree he saw the valley wall, rising almost as 
 steeply as a cliff. As his eye followed the ascent, 
 Crane caught at the very top the glint of the 
 white wall of a bungalow. 
 
 "An odd place to build," he thought. "I wonder 
 how they reach it. Not from here, that's certain." 
 
 And after he had returned to the highway, and 
 had retraced the road through the canyon, and 
 had come out into the open plain, he looked up 
 the hill, trying to catch another glimpse of the 
 cottage. 
 
 He saw it now, — a tiny white spot on the crest 
 of a ridge which rose above the lower slopes. The 
 hill below it was a great triangular block of earth, 
 rising slowly from the plain, and bordered by 
 
132 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 deep ravines. The entrance to one of the ravines 
 faced Crane. 
 
 "I imagine the trail runs up here," he thought. 
 
 The more he studied the bungalow, the greater 
 grew his curiosity regarding it. 
 
 "It's not very far — a couple of miles, I guess," 
 and he entered the ravine. 
 
 The place was rough, dry and rocky. Evidently, 
 in that district, the higher hills absorbed' the bulk 
 of the rainfall. Down here the vegetation was very 
 scanty. Beneath a stingy growth of cactus and 
 lantana the slope showed as piled-up layers of 
 volcanic rock. The path was only a rude cattle- 
 trail, but it led steadily upward. Soon it turned 
 and climbed the side of the gorge, leading to the 
 face of the open slope. Here the ground was 
 covered with deep, rich grass, where cattle grazed. 
 An hour after Crane had left the plain, he stood 
 at the apex of the slope, and more than a thousand 
 feet above the level of the sea. 
 
 A narrow ridge stretched before him, with a trail 
 following the crest of the ridge. The foreground 
 of the picture was filled with trees, clothing 
 the narrow ridge. Perched on a prominent 
 point half a mile away, stood the bungalow. 
 Far beyond it rose the main crest of the hills — 
 a group of five triangular peaks, rising like five 
 shark-teeth. 
 
 Crane had no doubt that this trail led to the very 
 summit. He knew that the hills contained many 
 old trails, made by the primitive Hawaiians, and 
 abandoned long ago. But this trail was compara- 
 
THE BUNGALOW 133 
 
 tively clear. There was no need of a squad of 
 Japs to clear the way. Crane swung over the 
 ground. Within ten minutes he stood before the 
 cottage. 
 
 There was no sign of life, or of recent occupancy. 
 No smoke curled from the chimney. Crane 
 walked curiously around the place. It seemed as 
 though no one had visited it in years. 
 The figure of an eagle, carved from wood and 
 gilded, rested on the front verandah. It looked as 
 though it had been intended for an ornament, to 
 be placed on the gable. But the plan never had 
 been carried out. The gilding was peeling from 
 the wood. 
 
 Crane ascended the verandah. He noted a 
 red lantern, a great ship*s side-light, which was 
 fastened above the door. Looking in at a window, 
 he saw that the kitchen was fitted up like a ship's 
 galley, or kitchen. He saw a marine stove, with 
 racks overhead for plates, and other racks from 
 which the cups and glasses dangled. Instead of 
 flights of stairs of the ordinary sort, there were 
 accomodation-ladders, such as may be seen on 
 board a sailing-vessel. Even Crane, unused as he 
 was to the ways of ships and the sea, began to 
 perceive that the place had been built by a 
 nautical man. 
 
 He drew a supply of sandwiches from his pocket, 
 and prepared to enjoy his lunch beneath the shade 
 of the verandah. While he ate, the decision 
 crystallized in his mind, that he had found the 
 very place for which he had been hunting. 
 
 First, it was evident that the cottage had been 
 
134 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 abandoned long since. No danger of an owner 
 materializing at an awkward moment. Crane 
 reasoned out how the place came to be there. It 
 must have been that some nautical man, 
 some ancient mariner, had climbed the hill 
 and had become fascinated by the outlooks which 
 it afforded. Whichever way one looked, the view 
 was delightful, whether over the plain below, 
 or up to the crest of the hills behind, or down into 
 the ravines on either side. Crane glanced down 
 into the valley from which he had first caught 
 sight of the place. He gazed over the deep green 
 of the grove which grew below. The trees clung 
 to the steep rocks, twining their twigs and tendrils 
 into the densest tangle. 
 
 And the ravine on the opposite side of the place 
 was just the same, — filled with all the luxuriant 
 verdure of a tropical valley. What a contrast 
 between its appearance at that height, and 
 the one it had shown lower down, where Crane 
 had entered it, where gaunt ribs of rock protruded 
 through the scanty vegetation. 
 
 Yes, some ancient mariner had had this 
 bungalow constructed so that he might be able 
 to come there and enjoy the scenery to his heart's 
 content, when he was so minded. Crane thought 
 of the enthusiasm which it showed, for everything 
 that went into the construction of that building, 
 every stick of wood, and every bit of furniture, 
 must have been carried there, on men's backs, two- 
 and-a-half miles up a rough cattle trail. And the 
 trail was very steep in places. 
 
 "Carding, old man," he thought, "there are others 
 
THE BUNGALOW 135 
 
 beside myself and Burl, who are crazy about the 
 island scenery." 
 
 Why, this place would be a hundred times better 
 for his purpose than a cottage in some valley, such 
 as he had dreamed of renting. No landlord to 
 come spying around here! Nor was this the sort 
 of place to which idlers would be attracted. No 
 one was likely to come, scrambling two-and-a-half 
 miles up a rough cattle-trail, very steep in places, 
 unless he had very urgent business. Here, 
 by the aid of the band of Japanese who were 
 awaiting him. Crane could bring his four "male- 
 factors of great wealth." Here he could argue with 
 them at his leisure. Here he could try unlimited 
 moral suasion, and even a little physical suasion, 
 should the event require it. 
 
 The more Crane studied the situation, the 
 more enthusiastic he felt. His lunch disposed of, 
 he jumped to his feet to reconnoiter the premises 
 once again. 
 
 The locks on the doors were obviously of the 
 most simple construction. There would be no 
 difficulty in getting a bunch of old keys which 
 would open them. And there was plenty of room 
 behind the house to furnish the Japanese with space 
 for a camp. The more Crane studied the place, 
 the better it pleased him. While the little bungalow 
 was very plain, it had been built in a very solid 
 and business-like fashion. It evidently was well 
 furnished in all its four rooms. It was well 
 supplied with water, which came from the roof, 
 off which the rain ran into two wooden tanks. 
 
136 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "One such shower as I saw yesterday," thought 
 Crane, "would fill both those tanks." 
 
 But there was no immediate need for the shower. 
 Both tanks were full. Crane tasted the pure rain 
 water, mentally comparing it with city water. 
 
 "I'll have to tighten the pincers on those fellows, 
 when I get them up here," he thought, "or they'll 
 get nothing worse than a pleasant vacation." 
 
 He spent a little time in exploring the trail to 
 the higher hills, but found that, beyond the house, 
 it was desperately overgrown. He returned to the 
 verandah, where he could drink in the view — 
 Pearl Harbor and the western hills, glowing in 
 the golden Hawaiian sunlight. Then he thought of 
 the man who had built the cottage. He could 
 imagine the seafarer, back from far voyagings, 
 climbing the trail to spend a few weeks in this 
 island bungalow. In imagination he could see the 
 old fellow, sitting on the verandah and smoking 
 the pipe of peace, while gazing out at the very view 
 which he himself was beholding. 
 
 And it was a fascinating view. Far in the west 
 the declining sun gilded the edges of the great 
 masses of cloud which hovered above the western 
 range, fifteen and twenty miles away. The flat, 
 table-like top of the loftiest summit was covered 
 with a white table-cloth of clouds. Below it 
 the broad sweep of an ancient lava-flow sloped to 
 the plain. Crane thought of the days when the 
 white-hot lava had streamed down. In imagina- 
 tion he could see it pour, hissing and roaring, into 
 the water, until the ocean boiled and bellowed, 
 while clouds of steam rose to the sky. 
 
THE BUNGALOW 137 
 
 His gaze fell lower still, and rested on a more 
 peaceful scene, on the broad expanse of Pearl 
 Harbor. A dozen miles away, it was spread out 
 like a map before him, lying in the very center 
 of the plain, gleaming like silver in the afternoon 
 light. The rays of the sun were reflected from 
 the water, until it resembled a great, burnished 
 mirror. Every island and inlet stood out, black 
 and distinct, against the shining surface. There the 
 great harbor lay, mapped out before him, divided 
 by its peninsulas, and dotted with its islands. 
 
 His gaze fell lower still, on the shining green 
 of cane-fields, and on the great circles of the 
 craters just beyond the foot of the hill. At the 
 very base of the hill lay the canyon through which 
 he had come that morning. From this height it 
 showed, sharply defined, like a long railway cutting. 
 
 "Whoever planned this bungalow, knew what he 
 was about," thought Crane. "What a glorious 
 place for a vacation. And how different from a 
 typical Hawaiian home," and he turned his glasses 
 down to the margin of Pearl Harbor, where he 
 could see Hawaiian homes standing in the midst 
 of their overflowed rice-fields. 
 
 His eye swept the far ocean's distant rim; then 
 over the groves of palm trees growing on the 
 shore; over the plain with its wealth of sugar and 
 tropical products, and up to the steep volcanic 
 heights where hung the trade-wind clouds. He 
 quoted : ' 
 
 "Every prospect pleases, 
 And only man is vile." 
 
138 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 He glanced once again at the bungalow. Then 
 he started down the trail. 
 
 **We are ready for the play to begin," he 
 thought. "It will have the blue Pacific ocean for 
 a background, the whole island for a stage. And 
 in the cast there will be four assorted villains, — 
 the manager and officers of the X Sugar Company." 
 
XI 
 
 CHARLEY DEANE 
 
 CRANE hurried back to his hotel, where he 
 dined alone, and reflected, while he sat at the 
 table, on the next move he should make. 
 
 There were two things must be done at once. 
 First, he must learn who was the owner of the 
 bungalow. He must make sure that no one would 
 be likely to question his temporary use of the 
 place. Also, he must learn the date and place of 
 the next monthly meeting of the officers of the 
 X Sugar Company, for he planned to deal with 
 them in a body, not one by one. Nor could 
 he see any chance to get them together, without 
 arousing suspicion, except by waiting until they 
 held a meeting. Of course, the traditional detective 
 of fiction would have been ready with a simple 
 expedient — a plan to send a mysteriously worded 
 note to each man, requesting him to be at the 
 northern end of the King car-line at eight o'clock 
 on the evening of that day. Equally as a matter 
 of course, all would have come as requested, when 
 they might have been induced to visit the 
 bungalow. But the methods of fiction did not 
 commend themselves to the Californian. 
 
 Next, he must get into touch with the Japanese. 
 They were a "gang" who had been employed as 
 cane-cutters on the X plantation. All cane-cutting 
 
140 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 is paid for as piece-work. Through a clerical error, 
 this particular gang had been defrauded of a 
 day's pay. They had struck promptly, and had 
 returned to Honolulu, where they had tried to get, 
 by legal means, what they considered their 
 rights. A representative of the minority stock- 
 holders had become interested in their case, and 
 had arranged to pay their living-expenses. He 
 had returned to California, but an agent paid the 
 money once a month. It would be through him 
 that Crane would approach the Japanese. 
 
 As Crane considered the case, a plan came to 
 him like a flash. He would have them appear in 
 person before the officers' meeting. They would 
 come ostensibly to state their case. He himself 
 would be waiting outside, with a limousine. The 
 manager and officers would be "induced" to enter 
 the car, when they might be whirled away to the 
 vicinity of the polo-field, from which they could 
 be carried to the bungalow. 
 
 As Crane rehearsed the plan in his mind, its 
 simplicity and effectiveness struck him as some- 
 thing marvelous. It pleased him so well that he 
 almost laughed aloud. And even a pessimist would 
 admit that the plan possessed possibilities. But 
 many things must be done before trying to carry 
 it out. 
 
 One thing at a time. Next morning he visited 
 the office of the Tax-Collector, where he 
 inquired concerning the bungalow. An obliging 
 clerk identified it on a map, and recollected its 
 ownership at once. 
 
CHARLEY DEANE 141 
 
 "That place was built some years ago for an 
 American sea-captain," he explained. "But it 
 hasn't been occupied for three years," and he 
 copied the name from the books. "He's the master 
 of a big American ship, but if you want to find 
 him, you'll have to look on the other side of the 
 world; Australia, I believe." 
 
 That was all Crane needed to know, and he 
 hurried to a telephone, where he called up 
 lieutenant Sherrill. 
 
 "Can you find out for me when the officers of 
 the X Company will hold their next meeting?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "That sounds better," Sherrill thought. "He 
 means to meet them. He'll try to come to an 
 understanding." Then he answered, 
 
 "I'll see the treasurer to-day, and I shall find 
 out the time and place from him. I'll call you up 
 this evening, and let you know." 
 
 The treasurer to whom Sherrill referred, was 
 announced on his visiting-cards as "Mr. Charles 
 Wellington Deane;" but throughout the business 
 and social circles of Honolulu he was known as 
 "Charley" Deane. 
 
 Charley Deane was no new-comer to the Islands. 
 He was a native of Honolulu, and so was his 
 father before him, for his grandfather, the Rev. 
 Abner Deane, had been one of the first missionaries 
 sent out from New England. 
 
 The Rev. Abner had been a patient toiler in the 
 Lord's vineyard, where he had found the grapes 
 small and few. His son, Abner Deane, Jr., had 
 
142 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 followed in the same path. But the grandson, 
 Charles W., was made of other stuff. At twelve 
 years of age he had computed that "it cost ten 
 thousand dollars to Christianize each Kanaka, and 
 not one of them was worth having after they got 
 him." He decided on a business-career, and 
 celebrated his twenty-first birthday by becoming a 
 clerk in a bank. 
 
 For the next ten years he remained a clerk in 
 the Merchants' and Planters' Bank of Honolulu. 
 Meanwhile, it had been discovered that immense 
 bodies of artesian water underlay the island. 
 Sugar-cane was being planted and grown by 
 irrigation where no one had been able to grow 
 anything whatever. Charley Deane woke up to the 
 fact that he had inherited from his father a 
 thousand acres of apparently worthless land, 
 which might be made very valuable. The Rev. 
 Abner had bought it at a dollar an acre, from one 
 of his parishioners, at a time when no one else 
 would have given a cent an acre. His son had 
 often regretted the fact that he had not inherited 
 the thousand dollars instead of the land. Now he 
 changed his mind. Those thousand acres, 
 together with a tract controlled by the man who 
 became president of the company, were the 
 commencement of the X sugar plantation. 
 
 Ten years had elapsed since then. Thanks to 
 the revenues of the plantation, Deane had become 
 an officer of the bank, and a heavy stockholder. 
 
 The bank stood at the intersection of two of 
 Honolulu's principal streets. Its walls were of 
 
CHARLEY DEANE 143 
 
 gray volcanic stone. Through wide plate-glass 
 windows, only a few feet above the level of the 
 pavement, passers-by might look into the outer 
 offices, where a staff of book-keepers were posting 
 great ledgers. Deane, as an officer of the bank, 
 occupied an inner room. 
 
 He was in a specially amiable frame of mind 
 that morning, when lieutenant Sherrill's name was 
 brought in. "Yes, he would see Mr. Sherrill at 
 once." 
 
 As Sherrill entered, he noted the sumptuous 
 appointments of the office — the massive furnishings 
 and tasteful pictures. Solid and dignified and radi- 
 ating an air of wealth, the appointments were ideal. 
 The place had a tropical tone, for the furniture was 
 of native koa wood, splendidly polished. A great 
 bouquet of hibiscus blossoms stood on the broad 
 table. On the wall hung an oil-painting showing 
 an ancient Hawaiian king in his long ceremonial 
 robes — robes woven of scarlet feathers, a helmet 
 of golden feathers covering his head. The owner 
 of this beautiful room sat at the table. 
 
 "Another man who is accumulating a private 
 fortune from the expense account of the X 
 plantation," Sherrill thought. 
 
 He had a much lower opinion of Deane than of 
 the president. Mentally, he compared Deane to 
 a rat. And there was a good deal in the treasurer's 
 appearance — his long sharp nose, his black beady 
 eyes, and his black hair smoothly plastered down — 
 which suggested the rodent. Sherrill reflected that 
 a rat is a creature which will rather run 
 
144 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 than fight. He decided to see if he couldn't 
 "throw a scare" into Charley Deane. 
 
 But Deane knew nothing of Sherrill's attitude. 
 He greeted the lieutenant with something which 
 he intended for a hearty handclasp, though it 
 seemed very limp to the officer, and invited him 
 to a seat in a wide leather chair. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Sherrill, what can I do for you?" 
 Deane inquired. 
 
 "Nothing for me. I am not here to ask favors 
 for myself. I come as one of the minority stock- 
 holders in the X Sugar Company. It has come to 
 my knowledge that you are likely to get into 
 pretty serious trouble. I want to warn you, before 
 it is too late.'* 
 
 "Indeed! What's the trouble?" 
 
 "Perhaps you don't know that the California 
 stockholders — two hundred of them — have per- 
 fected an organization for the purpose of taking 
 active steps to protect their interests!" 
 
 "Perhaps I do know it! And perhaps you don't 
 know that I was one of the defendants in a case 
 brought three months ago, by those very parties. 
 It may interest you to know that the case ended in 
 a sweeping verdict against them." 
 
 "Yes, you got the verdict, and you also came 
 in for a nice bunch of criticism; what was it they 
 said of you? that there was a good pickpocket lost 
 when you went into the sugar business?" 
 
 "And we showed that there would be a good 
 plantation lost if we changed our methods. Do 
 you really want us to do as they demand? pay out 
 every cent of the proceeds in dividends, as fast as 
 
CHARLEY DEANE 145 
 
 they come in? set aside nothing for upkeep? spend 
 nothing for expansion?'* 
 
 The lieutenant laughed, not very pleasantly. 
 
 "It seems to me IVe heard those arguments 
 before. Upkeep and legitimate expansion are all 
 very well. But five-thousand-dollar autos and fifty- 
 thousand-dollar homes for the officers are quite 
 another matter. I wonder what your father and 
 grandfather would say to all that, were they alive 
 to-day, to know of it?** 
 
 "Why don't you suggest that we dispose of our 
 private property, convert it into cash, and turn 
 all of our 'ill-gotten gains* over to the California 
 stockholders?'* Deane inquired. "No doubt they 
 would be delighted to get the cash.** 
 
 "Not a bit more pleased to get it than you were 
 pleased to get their cash, when you were selling 
 the stock, ten years ago. But you haven*t answered 
 my question.** 
 
 "My father and grandfather have nothing to do 
 with the case.** 
 
 "That's your attitude. You realize that you 
 are sprung from missionary stock. But you have 
 forgotten the missionaries. They were your fore- 
 bears, it is true, but to-day you think of nothing 
 but the money-game you are playing. Money has 
 become your god. The God of the missionaries 
 means little or nothing to you." 
 
 Deane was sitting with one elbow on the arm 
 of his rocker. Now he lifted the cigar from his 
 lips and inclined his arm forward, twirling a long 
 forefinger in Sherrill's direction as he answered, 
 
146 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "We seem to be drifting away from the subject, 
 Mr. Sherrill. Suppose you come out frankly, and 
 tell me what you want to advise." 
 
 "Well, it's like this, Mr. Deane. During the 
 last six or seven years you and your associates 
 have been making money. You may not have 
 made as much as they claim, but you have 
 established yourselves very well. You own hand- 
 some homes and clubs and cars and yachts. You 
 have the prestige of success. You are enjoying all 
 the social advantages which such success brings. 
 Now, why not be satisfied with what you've got? 
 Why not let someone else have a look-in?" 
 
 "It's true we've made a little money," Deane 
 admitted, "though not nearly so much as they say. 
 But we are in a position to do very much better, 
 if we can continue our present policy a while 
 longer." 
 
 "There you go!" the lieutenant exclaimed. 
 "That's the trouble with you and your associates. 
 The more you get, the more you want! Never 
 satisfied." 
 
 "I guess it's human nature." 
 
 "A very disagreeable side of human nature. 
 But let me repeat what I said before. Your present 
 course, if persisted in, will bring you a lot of very 
 unpleasant notoriety; so unpleasant that you will 
 wish you had changed you policy in time. Just 
 now, there is time. But that stage is passing. You 
 can no longer shield yourselves behind the old 
 arguments. I repeat, you are laying yourselves 
 open more and more, every day, to unpleasant 
 criticism and notoriety. Just let enough of that 
 
CHARLEY DEANE 147 
 
 sort of thing get started, and something worse will 
 follow. The next case which comes up in court, 
 will feel the effect of it." 
 
 Deane wriggled a little under this argument. 
 Then he said, 
 
 "Why do you come to me alone about this? I 
 am only one. Even if you did convince me, I 
 might not be able to persuade my associates. Why 
 don*t you appear before us when we have our 
 monthly meeting?" 
 
 "When do you have your next meeting?" 
 
 "To-morrow afternoon, at 2 p. m., at the home 
 of our president." 
 
 Sherrill made a careful note of time and place 
 on a page of his notebook, a page which he had 
 headed "Kenneth Crane." 
 
 "We shall all be there," Deane continued; 
 "president, secretary, treasurer and manager. We 
 shall be pleased to give you a hearing. I know 
 you won't show us any mercy, but we don't want 
 our corporation to get a bad name," and Sherrill 
 knew that his argument had produced an effect; 
 just how great an effect, the outcome alone could 
 determine. Then he inquired, 
 
 "But suppose that a representative of the 
 California stockholders, a Mr. Crane, direct from 
 the mainland, wished to appear before that meeting. 
 Would he be given a hearing?" 
 
 "He certainly would, Mr. Sherrill." 
 
 "Very well," and the lieutenant rose. 
 
 As he stood there for a moment handling his 
 military cap, his eye was caught by the portrait 
 of the native ruler, hanging on the wall. The 
 
148 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 pictured figure of the king was posed in an 
 attitude of easy dignity, with one hand extended 
 in a gesture which seemed to invite the world to 
 his island kingdom. 
 
 Sherrill's eye fell from the painting to a roll-top 
 desk, and on top of the desk he noticed a framed 
 white card carrying a motto. It seemed like a 
 descent from the sublime to the ridiculous, for the 
 card read, "Don't waste your time trying to 
 find out why a black hen lays a white egg. Get 
 the egg." He reflected that, to Deane's mind, 
 those words probably contained the ultimate 
 essence of all human wisdom. 
 
 "Is that your mental attitude?" he asked, indicat- 
 ing the card. 
 
 "It is. Results are what interest me." 
 
 "You're not interested in means and methods." 
 
 "They're none of my concern." 
 
 "You don't believe it would be worth while to 
 find out which variety of hen-food would induce 
 the black hen to lay a maximum number of white 
 eggs in a minimum number of days." 
 
 Deane did not care to admit that the very 
 mention of means and methods jarred his nerves 
 — that mentally he classed all such study as "bosh" 
 and a waste of time. He contented himself with 
 answering that he "always left that sort of thing 
 to others." 
 
 "Then you're content to be a plodder in paths 
 made by others." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Well, to illustrate; long before the X plantation 
 
CHARLEY DEANE 149 
 
 was started you knew that the rainfall was very 
 much heavier on the higher hills of the island, 
 where it's not needed, than on the plains, where 
 it is needed/' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And that the volcanic rocks are very porous, 
 absorbing the water like a gigantic sponge." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And that the presence of large bodies of 
 artesian water beneath the plain had been proved, 
 — immense reservoirs fed from the hills." 
 
 "That's so." 
 
 "Yet it never would have occurred to you to 
 apply that knowledge and to use those stores of 
 artesian water in irrigating cane-lands, had you 
 not seen your neighbors doing so, and making 
 money thereby." 
 
 This was true ; and — had Sherrill only known it — 
 at that very minute Deane owned stock in a tourist 
 hotel, and had contributed to a fund for fetching 
 an expert to Honolulu, an expert who would tell 
 how the city might be beautified so as to render 
 it more attractive in the eyes of travelers, with a 
 consequent increase in tourist travel and greater 
 profits in the hotel business. And all the while 
 the solution of the problem was before Deane's 
 eye, had he been willing to study on it. 
 
 He knew that lines of palm trees on a sandy 
 shore are very picturesque. He knew that there 
 was every opportunity to plant a row of gracefully 
 curving cocoa-palms around Honolulu harbor, 
 where they would have added a tropical tone to 
 relieve the commercial foreground of wharves and 
 
150 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the commercial background of warehouses. He 
 could have pointed out the very grove, lying 
 between King street and the sea, from which the 
 trees could have been transplanted — a grove which 
 would have been improved by the thinning. And 
 yet he preferred to contribute money for fetching 
 an expert from the mainland — a man who had 
 gotten his training in large American municipal- 
 ities, and who suggested a plan for city improve- 
 ment so expensive that it never could be carried 
 out. 
 
 "Well," Deane answered, "you'll have to admit 
 that in spite of my plodding methods and lack 
 of imagination, I'm accumulating some metaphor- 
 ical eggs that are pretty valuable. If you'll go 
 ten miles from here to Pearl City, you'll find a 
 very delightful home, which belongs to me. My 
 property in the city is rented, all of it. And the 
 X plantation is a wonderful producer." 
 
 In fact, Charley Deane was nearly as well 
 satisfied with his lot in life as was the president 
 of the company. Every week-day morning a 
 luxurious car brought him to the bank, where he 
 would arrive about ten a. m. In the afternoon 
 his car might carry him to the beach at Waikiki, 
 or to the X plantation, or on a tour of inspection 
 of his real-estate holdings in the city. On Sunday 
 he would entertain guests in his Pearl City home, 
 where he could amuse them with Sunday cruises 
 around Pearl Harbor, for he owned a commodious 
 motor-yacht. His name still was carried on the 
 church-roll, but services seldom saw him. 
 
CHARLEY DEANE 151 
 
 After Sherrill had bowed himself out Deane 
 continued to sit there, lost in thought, while the 
 clock ticked on and his lunch-hour came and went. 
 What the lieutenant had said, revolved in his 
 mind. Why not be content with his present good 
 fortune? Why tempt fate further? 
 
 "I think I'll have a talk with our president," 
 was his conclusion. "I'd trust his sooner than 
 anyone else, to steer us away from the rocks." 
 
XII 
 
 MALEFACTORS 
 
 DEANE turned to the telephone and called up 
 the Cosmos Club. Yes, the president was 
 there. He was very busy, but if Mr. Deane 
 could come at eight o'clock, he would be delighted 
 to see him. And at eight o'clock that evening 
 Deane's motor-car brought him to the portal of 
 the Cosmos Club. 
 
 The president had been busy preparing a 
 paper on "The Value of Literary Criticism." This 
 paper he would read before a select circle of the 
 club. Now he was sorting and numbering the 
 pages. 
 
 He was sitting in an ebony chair at an ebony 
 table, in a study adjoining the library. The room 
 was panelled with koa wood, and lined with 
 bookcases which rose to half the height of the 
 walls, and upon the cases stood statuettes and 
 specimens of Chinese pottery and porcelain. Their 
 white curves and gaudy colors contrasted with the 
 dark woodwork. A cluster of electric globes hung 
 from the center of the ceiling, shaded so that the 
 light, beneath the crimson silk, fell only on the 
 round top of the table and the figures of those who 
 sat beside it. The features of the two men who 
 faced each other across the table stood out 
 strongly against the dark background of books. 
 
 Charley Deane had been prompt in keeping the 
 
MALEFACTORS 153 
 
 appointment. Now he fussed and fidgetted, as he 
 considered how best to broach the subject. 
 
 "Lieutenant Sherrill was in my office this 
 morning," he said at last, "He came to speak to 
 me about " 
 
 "About dividends?" 
 
 "Yes. How did you know?" 
 
 "He was here to interview me on the same topic, 
 two days ago." 
 
 "Then you know his opinion of our game of 
 freeze-out." 
 
 "I believe I do. He seems to be getting quite 
 active as a champion of the minority stockholders. 
 I wonder what's behind his sudden activity." 
 
 "That is precisely the question that's troubling 
 me. That's what I want to discuss with you. 
 Sherrill thinks those California people are getting 
 desperate." 
 
 "Well, I can tell you where he gets some of his 
 ideas. A representative of the minority stock- 
 holders, is here from California. His name is 
 Kenneth Crane. He and Sherrill have been touring 
 the island together. I suppose Crane has given 
 him his version of the affair." 
 
 "Well, what do you think they mean to do?" 
 Deane asked anxiously. 
 
 "Do! They can't do anything," and the 
 president's tone was very contemptuous. 
 
 "Perhaps they cannot, but even so, we shall 
 come in for a lot of harsh criticism; they'll try to 
 give us a reputation that may stick." 
 
 "Criticism! My dear Mr. Deane, do you allow 
 such a little thing as criticism to worry you?" 
 
154 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 "I'm afraid I do, especially when I fear that 
 something worse will follow.'* 
 
 "Then just set your mind at ease. That 
 ^something worse' is not coming. Nor is there 
 anything in criticism, and I am prepared to prove 
 it to you," and the president picked up a periodical 
 which had been lying on the table. He scanned 
 it for the citation he wanted. 
 
 "You've come to me in the nick of time, 
 Charley," he continued. "The paper on which 
 I've been working, deals with this very topic, and 
 I'm full of it," and for the next half hour the 
 president proceeded to give Deane the substance 
 of the paper, discoursing upon the relative merits 
 of two popular novels and upon the bad judgment 
 displayed in certain reviews which he had culled 
 from a literary journal. While Deane found the 
 talk "interesting" in some respects, it struck him as 
 being so far off the subject he had come to discuss, 
 that he listened with less and less patience as the 
 president proceeded. When the peroration was 
 concluded, Deane's patience was gone. 
 
 "Yes, yes; I'll admit all you say," he exploded. 
 "But, for Heaven's sake, what has all this to do 
 with the question of DIVIDENDS? Here we sit, 
 talking popular novels and literary criticism, while 
 two hundred angry stockholders are getting ready 
 to put us in jail." 
 
 The president studied Deane for a moment. 
 "Poor Charley! I guess he has lost his nerve," he 
 thought. Then he said, 
 
 "Why, Charley, the whole aim and object of my 
 talk has been to prove that criticism is a worthless 
 
MALEFACTORS 155 
 
 thing that should be ignored. The drift of my 
 argument may not have been quite clear at first, 
 but I believed I had made it plain ultimately. Let 
 those two hundred stockholders criticise us all 
 they want. Their criticisms will run off like water 
 from a duck's back." 
 
 But Deane was warmed up and argumentative. 
 He answered, 
 
 "You say that all criticism is worthless, because 
 you believe you have proved that a certain 
 journal's reviews of Jack London's books are 
 worthless. But even if the point is well taken, 
 how about those journals that reversed the verdict? 
 One false criticism doesn't disqualify all criticism. 
 One swallow doesn't make a meal." 
 
 The president declined to argue the point. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose one of those little birds cannot 
 have much meat on its bones," he admitted. "Well, 
 we'll let that pass. But as for putting us in jail, 
 the thing cannot be done." 
 
 "Are you sure of that?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "I wish you would make me equally sure." 
 
 "I am absolutely sure, because we are in a 
 position to put our opponents in jail before they 
 can touch us. Just consider the case for a moment, 
 Charley. First, what do we know for certain? We 
 know that those minority stockholders are dis- 
 gruntled and would like to make trouble for us. 
 We know that they have tried to take legal steps 
 and have failed. We know that they are paying 
 the expenses of a party of Japanese who were 
 working for us, under contract. Mark that, "under 
 
156 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 contract." Now those Japanese are just as much 
 under contract to us as ever they were. Their 
 time hasn't expired. We didn't hold them, simply 
 because we had found them to be 'undesirable 
 citizens,' so to speak. Now, if Mr. Crane or anyone 
 else approaches them with an offer of employ- 
 ment, we can shut right down on Mr. Crane or 
 anyone else. We can put him in jail for six 
 months for enticing them to break their contract 
 with us, for that is what his offer of employment 
 can be shown to amount to. Now do you begin 
 to appreciate the legal side of the situation?" 
 
 Deane did begin to grasp the legal side of the 
 situation. He also regretted that the president 
 had not confined himself to the legal aspect of the 
 case, instead of having wasted half an hour in 
 discussing the value of criticism. 
 
 "Then the situation is this," he said. "If Mr. 
 Crane assigns these Japanese any definite task, 
 that will amount to giving them employment, and 
 that will render him liable to imprisonment under 
 the law." 
 
 "Precisely. Just recollect the law. And while 
 Mr. Crane is serving his sentence, he will not be 
 in a position to trouble us." 
 
 "That is, if we are in a position to get him in 
 time." 
 
 "And we will get him in time. Our legal 
 friend, Atten, has a man employed to watch the 
 Japanese. The moment Crane approaches them, 
 Atten will know it and the legal machinery will 
 work." 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 157 
 
 "Good! Then Atten is all ready for the 
 emergency." 
 
 "He is. You may rest secure, while leaving all 
 such points to Frank Atten. I have every confi- 
 dence in the sagacious man who to-day, as the 
 attorney of our corporation, walks, with recollected 
 feet the path of legal equity. And if you have 
 any doubts, just present them to him to-morrow. 
 You know we have our regular monthly meeting 
 in my Manoa valley home." 
 
 "All right. I'll be there. But tell me one thing 
 before I go, — what are 'recollected feet*?" 
 
 The president's urbanity was not proof against 
 this fling. He hesitated and then answered, 
 
 "Well, according to the New York Sun, they 
 are — Homer's and those that tread on you." 
 
 And Deane and the president rose and walked 
 together to the street, where each entered his car. 
 They would meet again "to-morrow in Manoa 
 valley." But meanwhile there were others — unin- 
 vited guests, citizens of Japan — who were also 
 planning to attend the meeting. 
 
XIII 
 
 CITIZENS OF JAPAN 
 
 HE WAS driving down the road to Manoa. 
 Down a long avenue that lay like a tunnel 
 beneath the algeroba trees Charley Deane was 
 coming in his roadster. The deep maroon body 
 of the car, varnished, to mirror-like perfection, 
 glowed like a great jewel, under the subdued light. 
 Then it swung around a comer where commenced 
 the long stone wall bounding a college campus, 
 and Deane drove toward the hills, with the 
 entrance to the valley opening broadly before him. 
 If Deane hadn't been used to the place already, 
 he would have thought it worth a visit for its own 
 sake, for in all Honolulu there was no more 
 delightful district. Manoa was a paradise of 
 winding roads and golf-grounds and suburban 
 bungalows; a place v^iJtTe palm branches waved 
 and dragon trees rustled and multitudinous 
 flowers flashed all the tints of the rainbow while 
 diffusing their perfume over wide lawns. Scarcely 
 known to traveling public, the sequestered nook 
 where the valley lay dreaming among the hills 
 was away from the beaten tracks. No dusty 
 highways, scorched by throngs of island-circling 
 tourists, ran through its peaceful domain. An 
 occasional visitor might happen to find the little 
 electric line leading within its borders. If so, as 
 he walked the quiet paths, he decided that here at 
 last was the Happy Valley. 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 159 
 
 At the very entrance there were some low 
 rocky elevations, the remains of streams of lava and 
 cinders which had burst out during a comparatively 
 recent period in the island's history. The low 
 heights had been utilized as sites for suburban 
 homes. Among them was the home of the 
 president of the X Sugar Company. 
 
 On a stony platform which jutted out from the 
 valley wall the mansion had been set. The site 
 was a natural terrace, overlooking the valley-floor 
 two hundred feet below, where a curving white 
 road swung toward the higher hills — hills covered 
 with a tangled exuberance of tropical forests, 
 through which the eye could follow the channels 
 of immense ravines that climbed to the crest of the 
 range. Blue skies, brave with sunlight, arched 
 overhead, and through those skies there drifted 
 the trade-wind clouds with their perpetual play of 
 mist and light and shadow. Nowhere could the 
 president have found a more delightful location. 
 And his home was worthy of such a setting. 
 
 But the residence was not of a palatial type. 
 It was no turreted chateau, with yard-thick walls 
 of black volcanic rock, and great arched entrances, 
 and narrow windows and wide halls, with towers 
 and pinnacles lifting their round roofs above it. 
 Its keynote was comfort, not cost — a frame 
 structure, with moss-green roof and low white 
 walls and white pillars and wide verandahs; a 
 charmingly modern bungalow. For a home in the 
 tropics it was idyllic. And it was surrounded with 
 grounds which blazed with all the splendor of the 
 torrid zone. 
 
160 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 The grounds were sheltered from the highway 
 by a triple line of cocoa-palms, and by a low wall 
 of coral rock just outside the trees, with an elab- 
 orate wrought-iron gate opening into a winding 
 avenue that led to the house. 
 
 Used as he was to the place, Charley Deane 
 couldn't help stopping for a moment to admire the 
 beauty of the garden. 
 
 "What a splendid ornamental tree is the royal 
 palm!" he thought. 
 
 The tree he looked at, like a lustrous plume, 
 played in the wind. Its fronds were emerald green, 
 crowning the column of the tall straight trunk, 
 which rose as smooth and round as though it were 
 a pillar, carved in a rock-hewn temple of old 
 Egypt. And there were others like it, — five hundred 
 more. Ranged in two ranks, on either side they 
 stood, bordering the winding avenue which led 
 to the mansion. 
 
 Lines of magnolias paralleled the palms. From 
 each immense blossom of creamy white there 
 floated a delicate perfume. 
 
 Beneath the trees there grew poinsettias. They 
 flamed with scarlet flowers. 
 
 So that garden grew, terrace above terrace, all 
 overlooked by the mansion. Within the grounds 
 had been gathered nearly all the more delightful 
 flowers and trees of the torrid and temperate 
 zones; green, spreading samang trees from India, 
 golden broom trees from Europe, rose-tinted 
 orchids from Brazil. It was difficult to decide 
 which to admire most — the taste of the arrange- 
 ment or the beauty of the colors or the delicacy 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 161 
 
 of the perfume, — for the air was the humid, hot- 
 house air of the tropics, in which the heavy 
 fragrance hung till it almost cloyed. 
 
 When the afternoon breeze filtered into those 
 grounds, it was accompanied with the rustling of 
 the long, saber-like leaves of dragon trees, with 
 the rippling of palm-branches, and with the slow 
 waving of trailing tropical vines overhanging 
 blossoming rows of hibiscus. 
 
 Scarlet and green and gold! Grace and color 
 and perfume! All were there. 
 
 Through the garden Charley Deane hurried. He 
 ascended a short wide flight of steps which led to 
 a verandah. The verandah was very wide, with a 
 white roof and a low white railing, and just outside 
 that railing there grew a row of royal palms, 
 rustling their great green fronds against the white 
 pillars. Where fell the shadow of one of the palms 
 a table stood, and around that table were gathered 
 Deane's associates. 
 
 There was the president, carefully groomed from 
 top to toe, his blue serge suit fitting him perfectly, 
 the coat thrown wide open to display an expanse 
 of negligee shirt. His silver whiskers contrasted 
 with his gold-rimmed eye-glasses. 
 
 There was the secretary, Frank Atten, with his 
 winsome smile and his ponderous bulk, a broad- 
 brimmed Panama shading his smooth-shaven face. 
 
 There was the manager — tall, lean, dark-com- 
 plexioned, with hard glittering eyes and a nose 
 which suggested a vulture's beak. Fresh from the 
 cane-fields, he had ridden on horse-back to the 
 meeting. 
 
162 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "There! This is good!" said the treasurer, as he 
 took his place. "Give me the open, every time, for 
 private conference. They say that walls have ears, 
 but where there are no walls, there's no danger 
 of dictagraphs or listeners at keyholes," and he 
 looked uneasily over the railing to make sure that 
 no one lurked beneath the edge of the verandah. 
 His associates smiled. No sense of impending 
 peril troubled them. 
 
 "Poor Charley! Timid as ever," the president 
 whispered beneath his hand. "I should not mind 
 if the whole town were here to hear us," and he 
 rapped for order. 
 
 "Mr. Deane," he informed the treasurer, "we 
 have listened already to the secretary's report. If 
 there is no objection, it stands approved. And 
 now we come to the special business of the day, — 
 whether our present policy shall continue, or 
 whether we shall reverse it and declare a dividend. 
 We shall be pleased to hear from you, Mr. Deane." 
 
 "Really — really, gentlemen," and the treasurer 
 flushed and stammered, "Please don't classify me 
 as a champion of the minority stockholders. I was 
 under the impression that lieutenant Sherrill, and 
 also a Mr. Crane, from the mainland, would be 
 here to address the meeting in their behalf." 
 
 "We have seen nothing of them." 
 
 "Then I find ^myself in a most embarrassing situ- 
 ation. I sincerely trust that no offense shall be 
 taken at anything I shall say." 
 
 There were polite murmurs of "None whatever, 
 Mr. Deane," "Please proceed." 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 163 
 
 "Gentlemen, I have been reflecting very 
 seriously over the situation. We commenced our 
 present policy in the belief that the minority 
 stockholders would sell their holdings when they 
 saw that those holdings brought them no 
 returns. But what is the situation to-day? We 
 have two hundred angry stockholders camping 
 on our trail, — aroused, angry and determined. 
 They propose to annoy us continually, to be a 
 thorn in the side of each of us. They propose 
 to mold public opinion, to make us objects of 
 public contempt. And, besides all that, there 
 is no knowing in what devilish plots they may 
 engage — plots affecting our liberty or our lives. 
 Has not the time come for a change of policy? 
 We have prospered wonderfully. Why not be 
 content with our good fortune and avoid future 
 trouble?" 
 
 Deane's re-assurance had evaporated in the 
 tropical glare of the morning after. 
 
 There was a sarcastic smile on Frank Atten's 
 face as he listened. Now he rose to reply. 
 
 "Before Mr. Deane lets a conspiracy worry 
 him, wouldn't it be well for him to make sure 
 that there is a conspiracy?'* 
 
 "I refer to the squad of Japanese who are out 
 on strike," Deane interrupted. "I understand 
 that the Californians are in communication with 
 them." 
 
 "What of it? I believe I have that situation 
 thoroughly in hand. I thought you knew it." 
 
 "But it wouldn't take much to incite those 
 Japs to anything." 
 
164 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "What could they do? You'll have to show 
 me. 
 
 "Have you forgotten the death of Hooper, our 
 book-keeper? Have you forgotten the morning 
 when he was found, foully murdered, shot in 
 the back, lying on the track of the plantation 
 railroad? — Hooper, one of the best liked and 
 most popular men in the Islands." 
 
 "But these Japanese had nothing to do with 
 the death of Hooper — and you know we tried 
 hard to saddle it on them." 
 
 Deane dropped back into his chair, silenced. 
 
 "And next," Atten continued, "if the idea of 
 a conspiracy is troubling Mr. Deane, wouldn't 
 it be well for him to look up the laws against 
 conspiracy? He will find them very stringent. 
 But, even if we sat idly and made no attempt 
 to defend ourselves, I doubt if the people to 
 whom he refers could accomplish anything. The 
 Californians are far away. You say they may 
 influence public opinion. How can they influence 
 public opinion in the Hawaiian Islands? And, 
 even if they could, to what does public opinion 
 amount ? 
 
 "I believe that what's worrying Mr. Deane, is 
 the presence in Honolulu of a representative of 
 the California stockholders. Don't let your 
 conscience be so tender, Mr. Deane, — or your 
 imagination so active. That fellow Crane appears 
 to be no more than a tourist. He has done 
 nothing overt since his arrival. And if he does 
 try to meddle in our affairs, we are prepared to 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 165 
 
 handle him. Gentlemen, I move that we ballot 
 on the question of 'dividends or no dividends'." 
 
 The manager was about to second the motion, 
 when the tramp of heavy boots was heard, 
 crushing the gravel on the winding avenue. All 
 looked in that direction, A number of Japanese 
 were approaching. 
 
 Obviously they were laborers, for they wore 
 the costume of the cane-fields, although they 
 carried no knives. Each wore a pair of thick- 
 soled shoes, laced high on the calf. Their clothing 
 was of blue cotton. It was clean, though old and 
 patched. They wore no hats, but the head of each 
 man was enveloped in a red handkerchief, tied 
 beneath the chin, so that his features projected 
 grotesquely from the center of the folds. 
 
 "Who are they, and what brings them here?" 
 inquired the president. 
 
 *1 remember them," answered Atten. "These 
 are the cane-cutters who claim they were defrauded. 
 I guess they've come to demand what they call 
 'their rights'." 
 
 "Set the dogs on them," suggested the manager. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen! nothing hasty," the president 
 counselled. "Let's give them a hearing. Of 
 course, we shall have to uphold our manager. But 
 it would hardly do to give those people an oppor- 
 tunity to say we had refused to listen to their 
 case." 
 
 With a quick and confident step, the Japanese 
 ascended the verandah. Fresh from a conference 
 with Kenneth Crane, they were primed with 
 assurance. Their leader, Wanto, dashed the hand- 
 
166 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 kerchief from his head and advanced to address 
 the meeting. His followers gathered in a group 
 behind him. 
 
 Wanto was an elderly man. He had commenced 
 life as a fisherman. He had served many years in 
 the Japanese navy. He had gone from the navy 
 into the British merchant service, where his "eyes 
 had grown dim with gazing on the pilot stars." 
 At last he had come to the Hawaiian Isles as a 
 plantation laborer, for sailor-like he never had 
 accumulated any property. But, while he was no 
 richer than any of his followers, they respected 
 him for his experience and his education, which 
 — in its way — ^was considerable. 
 
 "Well, what do you want?" growled the manager, 
 between puffs on a cigarette. 
 
 "We want what belongs to us," answered Wanto. 
 "At the plantation we came to you, Mr. Manager, 
 and you referred us to Mr. Atten. We went to 
 Mr. Atten, and he told us to come before the 
 next meeting of the directors. Now, here we are. 
 The manager knows the facts of the case. So does 
 Mr. Atten. Do we get our rights?" 
 
 While Wanto's command of English was very 
 good, he may not have expressed himself quite 
 as above. However, such was the substance of 
 what he said. 
 
 "Please state their case, Mr. Atten," the presi- 
 dent requested. 
 
 "I understand it to be no more than a question 
 of a day's pay," was the secretary's response. 
 "These fellows claimed that the book-keeper, in 
 making out the accounts, neglected to credit them 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 167 
 
 for one day's work. They appealed to the manager. 
 He understands the Japanese nature — greedy and 
 grasping to the last degree. He saw at once that 
 their claim was no more than an impudent attempt 
 at graft. He told them so. They went on a 
 strike. This particular bunch had shown them- 
 selves to be trouble-makers, and we were glad to 
 let them go." 
 
 "Then all they want is one day's pay." 
 
 "No, sir," answered Wanto. "We must not only 
 be paid for that day, but also we must be paid in 
 full for every day that we have lost." 
 
 The directors leaned back in their chairs and 
 laughed. "There's Japanese impudence for you!" 
 
 "You call our demands 'J^ipanese impudence,' " 
 answered Wanto. "Do you suppose we would 
 make any such demand if we had no cause? Since 
 we left your plantation — a plantation where the 
 mules have better quarters than the men — you 
 have given us a bad name throughout the Islands. 
 You have put us on the black-list. You have made 
 it impossible for us to secure employment any- 
 where. Last week, when the Portuguese ran from 
 the W plantation, we applied for their places. We 
 were refused employment, although the plantation 
 was in most urgent need of men. You are the 
 ones who are responsible for our being idle, and 
 you will have to pay for every idle day. 
 
 "And if you don't pay in full, things will begin 
 to happen," added Wanto. 
 
 "Oh, you threaten us, do you?" snorted Atten. 
 "Gentlemen, I call on you to be witnesses of that 
 speech," and then added, addressing the Japanese, 
 
168 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do about it?" 
 
 But Wanto was at fault. His manner was 
 undecided. He inquired, 
 
 "Is Mr. Kenneth Crane here?" 
 
 "He is not here." 
 
 ^What have yOu done with him?" and Wanto 
 was very suspicious. 
 
 "Mr. Crane has not appeared before this 
 meeting, and we know nothing of his plans. Has 
 he been talking to you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh! Once more I ask you to be witnesses to 
 what this man says," and Atten turned with a 
 triumphant air to his associates, as he added in a 
 lower tone, "We'll get that fellow." Then he 
 asked the Japanese, 
 
 "What did Crane have to say to you?" 
 
 But Wanto wouldn't tell. However, he had lost 
 a large share of his self-confidence. He turned an 
 uneasy glance towards the avenue, as though he 
 hoped to see Crane come in sight. But he only 
 saw a boy on a bicycle. There seemed to be a 
 hitch in Wanto's program. 
 
 The boy jumped from his wheel and ran up the 
 steps to the verandah. 
 
 "Message for Mr. Frank Atten," he called. 
 
 Atten accepted and signed for the message. As 
 he read it, his associates saw his face light up. 
 Waving the paper toward the Japanese, he said, 
 
 "If you fellows are looking for Crane, I can 
 tell you where to find him. He's in jail." 
 
 "Read us the message," cried the president. 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 169 
 
 Atten read as follows, 
 
 "Dear Mr. Atten: 
 
 Crane has been in conference with the 
 Japanese. This morning I followed him to their cabin. 
 He made them an offer, and I have the evidence to 
 prove it. I swore out a warrant, and Mr. Kenneth 
 Crane is now behind the bars. 
 
 John Carding." 
 
 Here was a sudden change of program for 
 Wanto. He turned to his followers and addressed 
 them in their own language, for some of them 
 understood no English. Their confident air dis- 
 appeared. Slowly they shuffled from the verandah. 
 Lingering on the foot-path, they began to confer 
 among themselves. 
 
 As the Japanese lost their confidence, the 
 treasurer's returned. His spirits rose as rapidly 
 as theirs had fallen. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I propose that we drop the dis- 
 cussion on which we were engaged," he said. "Let 
 us continue our present policy," and then he called 
 to the messenger, 
 
 "Here, boy! Don't go. There's an answer," 
 and he wrote as follows: 
 
 My dear Mr. Carding: 
 
 I am rushing to send you a bonus and my 
 heartiest congratulations on the splendid work you are 
 doing. It compares favorably Vv'ith that of any pro- 
 fessional, and is a credit to you and to Mr. Atten for 
 employing you. Please accept an extra $100. Find 
 check herewith. 
 
 Don't forget, when you travel past Pearl Harbor, to 
 make a flying jump from the train, and drop in on us 
 at our home. Mrs. Deane wants to see how the university 
 has affected you. She thought that education might have 
 a relaxing effect, but I am sure it didn't. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Charles. W. Deane. 
 
170 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 He signed, sealed and delivered the note to the 
 messenger. Then he said, 
 
 "Gentlemen, I propose the health of Mr. John 
 Carding!" 
 
 All applauded. The Chinese steward brought 
 iced drinks. They stood to -drink the toast. 
 
 "Another idea occurs to me," said Deane. "Why 
 not take a short vacation? My motor-yacht is in 
 commission. I have been planning to invite you 
 to be my guests for a cruise — a week's shark- 
 hunting and tuna-fishing in the lochs of Pearl 
 Harbor. Fishermen report a school of fourteen- 
 foot man-eaters in the western loch. Why not 
 take that vacation now? Will you honor me by 
 accepting my hospitality for the coming week?" 
 
 "Delighted," "Agreed," "Most happy to come," 
 they answered. 
 
 "Your invitation is most opportune in my case,** 
 said the president. "You know my wife and 
 family are away, on a visit to the mainland. I'm 
 tired of keeping bachelor's hall. And allow me 
 to make a suggestion. Let us meet at the City — I 
 mean the Cosmos Club this evening.** 
 
 "And from the club I can take you in my 
 limousine to Pearl City," added Deane. 
 
 "But how about the prisoner, Crane?" Atten 
 asked. "We shall have to appear in court against 
 him!" 
 
 No hurry about that," answered the president. 
 "Let him stay in jail till we are ready. Let him 
 lie for a week in solitary confinement in the 
 city prison. It will take some of the assertiveness 
 out of him.** 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 171 
 
 Just then he noticed that the cane-cutters still 
 stood below the verandah. He leaned over the 
 railing. 
 
 "Here you ! We'll do nothing for you," he called. 
 "You had your say. Now get off my premises." 
 
 The manager added a few cursory remarks in 
 Japanese. They moved slowly away, muttering 
 among themselves. 
 
 In the meantime, a Chinese servant, obedient to 
 a hint from "Foxy Grandpa," had scurried to the 
 rear of the residence, where he loosed two German 
 wolf-hounds. Heralded by a tremendous, bellow- 
 ing bay, their enormous heads and frothing jaws 
 appeared around a corner of the mansion. The 
 Japanese caught one glimpse, then disappeared 
 briskly down the winding avenue. 
 
 Deane couldn't help laughing with the rest, 
 while they watched the picture made by the 
 Japanese, flying down the avenue, followed by the 
 ferocious brutes. But the sight of Atten, rocking 
 back and forth in his chair, slapping the table, and 
 fairly shouting with laughter, sobered him. 
 
 "We're a heartless lot," Deane said. "We won't 
 pay those poor devils a cent, we won't let them 
 work for anyone else, and then we set the dogs 
 on them. That's because we have the power, and 
 the law on our side. But I almost feel half sorry 
 for them." 
 
 "Poor Charley! Soft-hearted as ever," said the 
 president. "Soft-headed, too," he thought. 
 
 "All's fair in war," said Atten, "They'll not 
 bother us again. Just think of their insolence! 
 intruding on a gentleman's grounds, rushing 
 
172 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 right up to the verandah of his private residence, 
 and assuming the tone that those curs assumed. 
 Why not get out a warrant, and have them jailed 
 for disturbing the peace?" 
 
 "But we can't make any such charge," Deane 
 answered. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. We might stretch things a 
 little. You know the definition of a lie, — An 
 abomination to the Lord, but a very present help 
 in time of trouble." 
 
 "We don't seem to be in any trouble at present," 
 said the president. "We had better reserve those 
 extreme methods until their need arises. But it 
 was amusing to see how they came down, when 
 they knew that their friend Crane was locked up.'* 
 
 "Those who take up the sword, shall perish by 
 the sword," Deane quoted piously. "There's a 
 wonderful truth in that. Now, we have always 
 followed the paths of peace and legality, and how 
 We have prospered ! And our prosperity has brought 
 us all the good things of life, with as few of its 
 cares and anxieties as could be expected. Our 
 property is in such a form that returns roll in 
 without our troubling ourselves to do more than 
 count the cash. And we live in a delightful land, 
 in a glorious climate. We have beautiful homes. 
 We have yachts and clubs and automobiles." 
 
 "And we have in anticipation the pleasure of 
 being the guests of Mr. Deane for a week's shark- 
 hunting and tuna-fishing in the lochs of Pearl 
 Harbor," added the president. 
 
 We may explain parenthetically that Pearl 
 
CITIZENS OF JAPAN 173 
 
 Harbor was divided into three arms by its 
 peninsulas. Those arms were known locally as 
 lochs. 
 
 While Deane talked, they had been rising from 
 the table. The meeting broke up. At nine p. m. 
 they would come together again at the Cosmos 
 Club. 
 
 They were smiling and joking as they prepared 
 to go, but their sentiments might have been 
 different had they known that at that very minute 
 Crane was being released on bail — bail furnished 
 by lieutenant Sherrill. His release would be 
 brought to their attention that night. 
 
XIV 
 
 NIGHT WORK 
 
 HONOLULU at night! The city resting beneath 
 the great tropical stars that peered down 
 between the palms; the air made murmurous 
 by the rustling of branches and the slow rumbling 
 of surf on the distant reef. 
 
 The time was nearly eight o'clock that evening. 
 Crane was on his way to a conference with Wanto. 
 He stopped on a comer for a moment, to take one 
 more look at his map beneath the light of the 
 arc -lamp ; then folded the paper to fit his pocket 
 and turned to follow his Hawaiian guide through 
 the gloom of Punchbowl street. 
 
 Each man carried an electric torch. While the 
 electric lights at the crossings spilled brilliant 
 splashes of illumination, between those islands of 
 light lay long stretches of darkness or semi- 
 darkness, for the narrow street was heavily shaded 
 by trees growing close behind low walls of coral 
 rock. Crane saw the dim outlines of gigantic 
 banyans from India, of mango trees from Sumatra, 
 of oaks from Australia. Their limbs drooped over 
 the road, screening it from the starlight. The 
 odors from the trees, filling the night with the 
 breath of Oceanica, kept suggesting things rich 
 and exotic. 
 
 How different this part of town was from the 
 commercial and Oriental quarters! Here were no 
 
NIGHT WORK 175 
 
 blocks lined with stores. Here were no hotels of 
 massive concrete, or banks built of volcanic stone. 
 It was true there were hotels and clubs, but all 
 were set within spacious grounds, behind walls 
 and hedges. Scarcely a sound came from them to 
 break the quiet of the night. 
 
 The way was not an orthodox city avenue. It 
 was very unorthodox, for it pursued a devious, 
 rambling course. Narrow and sinuous, it seemed 
 more like a trail than a street. Once an electric 
 car dashed across, a hundred yards away. They 
 heard its clang and whir, but could see nothing, 
 for it was beyond a bend. 
 
 But, spite of its eccentric twists and curves, 
 Punchbowl street led steadily toward the old 
 volcanic cone of Punchbowl. A mile from the 
 harbor they turned aside into a trail, for they 
 were at the foot of the crater-wall. The Hawaiian 
 boy led the way straight up a narrow, break-neck 
 track, which zig-zagged just enough to keep its 
 grip on the rocks. Ten minutes of climbing and 
 they were at the top, where, standing on the very 
 verge, they stopped to breathe. 
 
 They stood upon the crater's ragged rim, where 
 once volcanic fires had roared and blazed. All 
 silent now; the mountains lay in peace. Five 
 hundred feet below, the city slept, the starlight 
 falling upon it with a vague luster. Except for 
 a few far noises from the distant wharves, not a 
 sound broke the quiet of the bland tropical night. 
 
 In the harbor the lights of warships glowed upon 
 the water, reflected in long yellow lines that 
 trembled to the whisper of the air. A ship's bell 
 
176 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 clanging through the night, proclaimed the hour. 
 Crane counted the strokes. 
 
 "Eight bells/' he thought. "Eight p. m. I'm 
 in good time," and he turned to follow his guide. 
 
 Within that old crater there was no deep 
 depression, such as lay within the circle of 
 Diamond Head. In some pre-historic age a 
 torrent of volcanic sand had been rained down from 
 the higher hills and had filled it almost to the 
 brim. The flat sandy surface was covered with 
 cultivated fields. Here and there the homes of 
 natives showed vaguely. 
 
 The night was clear. Up here there was no 
 need for electric torches. Following a path which 
 ran between the little fields, Crane and his guide 
 came to the camp of the Japanese. 
 
 It was a makeshift affair — a single hut, built 
 from the flimsiest of materials. The posts and 
 ridge-pole and rafters were of bamboo. The walls 
 and roof were made from grass mats. Across the 
 roof a single sheet of canvas had been stretched 
 ^y guy-ropes strongly pinned to the ground on 
 either side. Tall palm trees arched above it, 
 fluttering their fronds in the gentle air, in 
 silhouette against the stars. 
 
 Within the cabin dim lights were burning. Crane 
 heard his guide exchanging muttered sentences 
 with someone who stood just inside the entrance. 
 Then he was ushered into the place. 
 
 It was a single room. Down its center there 
 ran a rough table, where the men were finishing 
 their evening rice. On the table were thick white 
 bowls and chopsticks. A row of cane-knives on 
 
NIGHT WORK 177 
 
 the wall caught Crane's eye. The knives were 
 thrust between the halves of a long piece of 
 bamboo, split lengthwise, and bound together with 
 a winding of cord at either end. Crane saw no 
 signs of sleeping-places, but judged that the men 
 slept in the open air, unless compelled to take 
 shelter within the cabin when an occasional shower 
 drifted down from the hills. 
 
 Their leader, Wanto, was bowing before him. All 
 rose and greeted Crane. Then the men returned 
 to their rice, while the Californian and Wanto 
 settled themselves for a conference. 
 
 "The reason I sent for you," Wanto explained, 
 "was that I might tell what occurred to-day at the 
 meeting in Manoa valley." 
 
 "But do you know why I was unable to be 
 there?" Crane asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir; we learned that you were in prison. 
 They told us so at the meeting. But, as soon as 
 we returned to our camp, we received a message 
 that you were at liberty again. The agent who 
 pays us our monthly allowance, sent us the 
 message." 
 
 "My arrest was a trick," answered Crane, "a 
 trick to tie me up so that I could not carry out 
 any plan I might have made. And the trick 
 worked very smoothly. But tell me about the 
 meeting." 
 
 Which Wanto proceeded to do. He spoke of the 
 confidence with which he and his men had 
 approached the meeting, of their surprise at not 
 finding Kenneth Crane there, and of the insulting 
 treatment given them. 
 
178 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "They set the dogs on us," he exclaimed, "Yes, 
 sir, they drove us from the place with wolf-hounds. 
 If we had had our cane-knives with us, those dogs 
 would not have lasted a minute. But we had left 
 our knives here," and Wanto pointed to the wall. 
 "You suggested that we go as peacefully as 
 possible, so as to cause no suspicion. But how we 
 would have loved to destroy those dogs!" 
 
 Crane noticed the hot blood flushing beneath 
 the swarthy skin of the Japanese, and he inquired, 
 
 "Have you been a soldier in the Japanese army, 
 Wanto?" 
 
 "No, sir. But I have been a man-o'-warsman in 
 the Japanese navy. I was in the battle of Sushima, 
 when we destroyed the Russian Baltic fleet. We 
 showed the Russians what the Japanese can do! 
 And now these fellows set their dogs on me!" 
 
 "Never mind, Wanto. We'll get them yet. We'll 
 make another plan." 
 
 "By all means! I'd love to get those fellows 
 in my power! I'd teach them respect for work- 
 ingmen. Now. they drive us like vermin from 
 their presence. But wait till I hold them!" 
 
 "Well, did you learn when they will meet again?" 
 
 "They said nothing about another business- 
 meeting. At present they plan to spend a week, 
 or two weeks, shark-hunting and tuna-fishing in 
 the lochs of Pearl Harbor." 
 
 An idea flashed into Crane's mind. He turned 
 a rapid-fire of questions on Wanto. 
 
 "Are all of them to be in the party?" 
 
 "Yes,." 
 
 "When will they start for Pearl Harbor?" 
 
NIGHT WORK 179 
 
 "To-night. They will meet at the Cosmos Club 
 at nine o'clock.'* 
 
 "That means they may not start before ten. 
 How will they travel?" 
 
 "In Mr. Deane's limousine." 
 
 "I see. I see," and Crane chuckled and rubbed 
 his hands together as he rose to take a few steps 
 backward and forward. The plan which had 
 dawned upon him was taking definite shape in 
 his mind. He settled himself once more by the 
 side of Wanto. 
 
 "See here," he said. "I think our opportunity 
 has come. We have the four men we want, just 
 where we can take them. Let me explain. North 
 of Honolulu, the road to Pearl Harbor passes 
 through a canyon. That canyon lies between the 
 wall of Salt Lake crater and the hills. There we 
 can stop their machine. The road is very quiet 
 At night it is deserted. There is no possibility of 
 a witness. After we have taken the men, we can 
 lead them in an hour to the place where I mean 
 to hold them. What do you say? Shall we start 
 for the road at once..." 
 
 The plan was plausible and pleased the Japanese. 
 In a torrent of speech, Wanto explained it to 
 the men. All jumped to their feet, and prepara- 
 tions began for an instant change of camp. 
 
 The cabin came to pieces as if by magic. 
 Ridge-pole and rafters were bound together, mats 
 and canvas were wrapped around them, half a 
 dozen men put their shoulders beneath the long, 
 sausage-shaped package, while the rest of the 
 party shouldered bundles of bedding and baggage. 
 
180 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Fifteen men made light work of the task. In ten 
 minutes they were ready to start. 
 
 Studying the map by the light of their electric 
 torches, Crane and his guide had been planning 
 a route which would take them through the most 
 quiet and sequestered part of Honolulu. 
 
 "All ready!" The long line of shadowy figures 
 moved across the crater, Crane and the Hawaiian 
 boy leading the way. From the crater they 
 descended to residential streets, dark with the 
 shade of many trees. Some were as gloomy as 
 Punchbowl street itself, though none were so 
 erratic. 
 
 The men pressed onward briskly, spite of their 
 heavy burdens. Not a word was spoken. Nothing 
 was to be heard save the shuffling of heavy shoes 
 and the quick, sibilant breathing of the men. No 
 chance to meet a patrolman on those quiet avenues. 
 An occasional pedestrian saw nothing but a crew 
 of Japanese, probably returning from the cane- 
 fields. 
 
 Through the town they went. Now it became 
 Sicattered and countrified. Rice-fields and market 
 gardens alternated with little homes, all dim and 
 vague beneath the glimmer of the stars. Circling 
 a great, walled enclosure where was a school for 
 Hawaiian boys, the party came to the King street 
 line. 
 
 Now Crane was on ground which he knew 
 thoroughly. The guide was dismissed with a 
 liberal reward. The party plodded northward, 
 past the end of the line, and past Fort Shafter. 
 They came to the canyon leading to the polo-field. 
 
NIGHT WORK 181 
 
 On their left rose the rocky wall of the 
 canyon, a hundred feet high. On their right lay 
 the stream-bed, concealed beneath its clustering 
 trees. Only the road showed white before them, 
 a ribbon which kept unrolling as they went. 
 
 How mysterious the place seemed! As they 
 hurried along, a sea of impressions might 
 have surged through .their minds, — thoughts 
 which might be set down in short, jerky sentences, 
 — fragments of recollections, questions, hopes 
 and fears. But somehow they seemed to have no 
 time to think. Probably their minds were not of 
 the introspective sort. All minds were bent on 
 progress, for only a little farther on was the place 
 where they would set the trap. 
 
 Just beyond the entrance to the valley where 
 lay the polo-ground, the road ascended a short, 
 steep grade. There Deane's machine would have 
 to slacken speed, and there Crane's party stopped. 
 Posts were driven into the ground on either side 
 of the way. The canvas sheet was stretched 
 between them and securely fastened with its guy- 
 ropes. Below this barricade, for a hundred yards, 
 the men stationed themselves at short intervals. 
 They would stand by the wayside, and when the 
 machine arrived and they came into the glare of its 
 headlights, they would jump and shout and wave 
 a warning to let the driver know there was 
 "danger ahead," for they had no wish that he 
 should actually charge their barricade. It was 
 only a blind. 
 
 Crane consulted his watch. Ten o'clock! They 
 might be there at any minute. 
 
182 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 So far, all had been hurry and rush. The minds 
 of all had been occupied by the desire to "get 
 ahead." Now there was nothing to do but wait. 
 Now they grew nervous under the strain of 
 listening, and doubts began to crop up. What if 
 some other machine should arrive before the one 
 they expected? But there was little chance of 
 that. Automobiles were few on that road, even 
 by day-time. And this was night, when usually 
 there were none. 
 
 And then came the question. What would they 
 do with the auto? If they left it in the canyon, it 
 would be found next morning. Inquiries would be 
 made for the occupants. All the country in that 
 vicinity would be searched. It would lead certainly 
 to the discovery of the prisoners. 
 
 But the time had gone by for figuring on that 
 problem. A low ejaculation from one of the men 
 warned Crane. He bent his head to listen. 
 
 The car was coming. Faint and far at first, then 
 growing nearer and clearer, the sound drifted 
 toward them through the pure night air. The 
 great limousine, with unmuffled exhaust, was 
 roaring along the road. 
 
 Now the car was entering the canyon. The 
 rocky walls re-echoed and redoubled the noise. 
 Nearer and nearer. "All ready." Then a tremen- 
 dous burst of acetylene light, a cloud of dust, a 
 vision of dark figures leaping and gesticulating by 
 the wayside, a hurricane of yells, a mad squealing 
 of brakes recklessly applied, and the car stood 
 panting where it almost touched the barricade. 
 
NIGHT WORK 183 
 
 Doors were thrown open. Heads were thrust 
 out. Charley Deane relinquished the wheel and 
 jumped to the road with the rest. The manager 
 and officers of the X Sugar Company gathered 
 before the canvas screen, wondering why the way 
 was barred. 
 
 But they did not see the brown figures stealing 
 up behind them. In an instant loops of cord had 
 been thrown around the arms and legs of each. 
 The Japanese, quick at cats and strong as tigers, 
 were upon them. Even the ponderous Atten was 
 tripped and tied. 
 
 Of course, there was a series of outcries. But 
 those cries were stopped instantly with wads of 
 cotton-waste, thrust into the mouths of the 
 prisoners. Then they were rudely jerked to their 
 feet. Each was held from behind, while in front 
 a pugnacious Jap flourished a "ferocious-looking" 
 cane-knife. The light of the head-lamps flashed 
 on the cold steel. 
 
 Crane came before their line to pronounce his 
 ultimatum. He drew a deep breath and looked 
 them over. His prisoners! So arrogant a few 
 brief hours before! Now, a dejected group of 
 captives. His to command! Well, he must let 
 them feel his authority. 
 
 "Listen to me," he said, "If you will come with 
 us peacefully, no particular harm will be done to 
 you. Your feet will be untied, and you can walk 
 comfortably. But, if you won't come peacefully, 
 you'll come anyhow, and you'll be the worse for 
 wear." 
 
 One by one, each of the prisoners bowed in 
 
184 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 submission. Their feet were unfastened. All were 
 ready to start. But how about the limousine? 
 
 Crane decided to run it up to the polo-field for 
 the time-being. That was done, and the party 
 turned toward the hills and plunged into the deep 
 ravine which held the trail. Up the rough track 
 they went. Broken bits of rock rattled under foot. 
 All of the prisoners were men grown soft, and 
 unaccustomed to hill-climbing. They would have 
 fared badly had not a pair of Japanese been behind 
 each, pushing him forward, supporting half his 
 weight. But, with such help, progress was swift. 
 In an hour's time, they were approaching the 
 bungalow. 
 
 White and ghostly in the starlight, it loomed 
 before them. Crane hurried to the door to try his 
 bunch of keys. Key after key rattled in the lock 
 and was rejected. Would none fit? Then came 
 the grating of a bolt, the creak of rusty hinges, and 
 a black square revealed by the door slowly 
 swinging. Crane picked up his electric torch and 
 flashed its glare within the house. 
 
 So far, all he had known of its interior had 
 been what he could glimpse through the 
 windows. Some of the shades had been drawn. 
 He had been able to learn but little. Now he looked 
 around him with eager curiosity. The rest of the 
 party waited outside, glad of a chance to ease 
 their throbbing lungs. 
 
 The door gave directly into a room which 
 resembled the cabin of a sailing-ship. It was 
 square, with a square table in its center, and above 
 that table a broad skylight where hung a bronze 
 
NIGHT WORK 185 
 
 lamp. Guy-chains ran from the body of the lamp 
 to the comers of the skylight. The walls of the 
 room were ornamented with nautical views. 
 The pictures were not hung by wires, but the 
 frames were firmly screwed to the panelling. In 
 each picture a four-masted ship, flying the Amer- 
 ican flag, was conspicuous. The whole place had 
 a flavor as "salty" as the ocean itself. 
 
 On the left hand a door gave entrance to the 
 kitchen which Crane had noticed as fitted up like 
 a ship's galley or kitchen. At the rear of the 
 room there were two doors which he hurried to 
 open. 
 
 It was as he expected; they opened into bed- 
 rooms — rooms fitted up like the state-rooms of a 
 steamer. In each he saw a pair of berths. Every- 
 thing was as neat and tidy as though the steward 
 just then had finished his work. 
 
 Good! Here were four sleeping-places. There 
 would be no difficulty about providing proper 
 quarters for the prisoners. But Crane's mind 
 recurred to the motor-car, left standing at the 
 edge of the polo-ground. While one of the 
 Japanese knelt on the table, coaxing a light to the 
 wick of the lamp, he returned to the porch, and 
 signed to his men to free the mouths of the 
 prisoners. 
 
 "Who is the owner of the car?" he inquired. 
 
 Deane stepped forward. 
 
 "There are two ways in which I can dispose of 
 your machine," said Crane. "I can run it into 
 Pearl Harbor, at a place where it will sink. Or 
 you can give me a note to the manager of the 
 
186 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 garage in Honolulu, where you are accustomed to 
 leave it, and I will drive the car into the city and 
 leave it in his care. Now, will you write that 
 note?" 
 
 Certainly, Mr. Deane would write that note. 
 His fountain-pen came out. So did a sheet from 
 his note-book. Now the lamp above the table 
 was ablaze. Beneath its light he wrote as follows : 
 
 Manager of the Crossroads Gsurage : 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 Please care for my machine until I call for it. 
 Yours, 
 
 Charles W. Deane. 
 
 Crane glanced over the message. 
 
 "Where is this garage?" 
 
 "Right opposite the big hotel." 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Deane. Your car will be 
 returned to the city." and he ran down the trail. 
 
 As he drove the car back to town, humming 
 toward Honolulu's commercial quarter. Crane 
 decided it would be safer not to traverse the down- 
 town district. No knowing whom he might meet. 
 Better to attract as little attention as possible. He 
 turned aside, and followed a circuitous course 
 which led him through the shadows and silence of 
 Punchbowl street. 
 
 As the car swept along beneath the trees, the 
 place seemed to blend with the spirit of the 
 evening's adventure. What a night of plot and 
 mystery it had been! 
 
 And what a day it had been! Crane's thoughts 
 
NIGHT WORK 187 
 
 turned back on the events of the last twelve hours. 
 In jail at noon; bailed out a few hours later; 
 the arrival of the native guide with the summons 
 from Wanto ; the walk by night to Punchbowl ; the 
 sudden decision; the rush to the Pearl City road; 
 the breathless wait and the quick capture; the 
 ascent to the bungalow, where now Crane's 
 enemies were his prisoners, guarded by men who 
 hated them for their frauds and for the contempt 
 in which they held their employees. 
 
 Down the quiet avenue he came. It brought 
 him nearly to the garage, which he reached a 
 minute later. He jumped out, thrust the note 
 into the hand of a sleepy helper, and made his 
 exit before any questions could be asked. 
 
 The time was not yet midnight when he entered 
 the lobby of the big hotel. Brilliantly illuminated 
 by arcs and incandescents, how its sophisticated 
 and citified tone contrasted with the scenes 
 through which he had come that night! Mentally 
 he compared the great lobby, with its thick carpets 
 and gorgeous upholstery and oil-paintings in 
 gilded frames, its palms and bronzes and panelled 
 walls, with the cabin of the Japanese. Well, he 
 could rejoin them to-morrow. To-night, he might 
 as well occupy his quarters in the hotel — and he 
 entered the elevator. 
 
 It seemed as though the boy studied Crane with 
 a curious air. Crane's suspicions were on the 
 alert, and it was time they should be, if he meant 
 to carry his program through successfully. He 
 felt for a dollar, which he donated to the boy. 
 
188 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "Has anyone been prying around, making inquir- 
 ies concerning me?" he inquired. 
 
 "Why, yes, sir," the boy answered, "After you 
 
 went out this evening, a young fellow was 
 
 scattering half-dollar tips all over the hotel. He 
 
 wants the boys to keep tab on you, and let him 
 know where you go. His name is Carding." 
 
XV 
 
 THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 
 
 AT NINE o'clock the next morning, Crane was 
 sitting in the lobby of the hotel. He must 
 get back to the bungalow, and he must throw 
 Carding off his track. He pondered the problem 
 of — how to do it. A dozen schemes presented 
 themselves. In imagination he saw himself on 
 the brink of the Pali, removing the rails of the 
 wooden fence which guarded the precipice. He 
 saw Carding pursuing him in a motor-car. He 
 saw the machine shoot over the brink, plunging 
 into space. It did not go tumbling over and over, 
 but fell straight and steady, as though held by an 
 invisible hand. Down, down, it went, a thousand 
 feet and more. All four wheels seemed to strike 
 the ground together. And then it disappeared. 
 There was a flash of fire, a puff of gray dust, and 
 it was gone. 
 
 But he decided that a method so spectacular and 
 bloodthirsty would hardly do in a civilized 
 community in the twentieth century, however 
 appropriate it might be in a motion-picture drama. 
 A more reasonable plan came to his mind. There 
 was no need for delay. He hurried out, to put it 
 into execution. 
 
 On the opposite side of the street and facing the 
 hotel, stood the Crossroads Garage. Crane waited 
 in the office while a chauffeur was filling the 
 gasoline tank of the machine which he engaged. 
 
190 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 And, somewhere about the premises, he believed 
 that Carding was lurking, ready to follow him 
 wherever he went. 
 
 "It's about time I gave that fellow the slip," he 
 thought, "and I believe I'll do it this time." 
 
 While he waited, he leaned back in a wide 
 wicker chair and watched the hotel across the 
 street. Its square front, its square doors and 
 square windows, gave it a most uncompromising 
 air. A number of tourists were leaving the main 
 entrance. They looked very spotless and com- 
 fortable, the men in cool "Palm Beach cloth," the 
 ladies in voiles. Before them walked a guide, 
 escorting them to the Capitol grounds: — "Right 
 this way, ladies; we'll show you everything.'* 
 
 Crane recollected how short a time it was since 
 he had been as new to the island as they were, 
 and then his meditations were interrupted by the 
 chauffeur, who came to tell him the car was ready. 
 
 Presently the machine was bowling up an avenue 
 which ran through the pass in the hills behind the 
 city. Crane leaned back on the cushions and 
 watched the brilliant tropical pictures as they 
 flitted by. He caught sight of an avenue of royal 
 palms leading through a luxurious garden to the 
 portal of a mansion, their straight smooth trunks 
 showing like lines of columns in a classic temple; 
 of a great iron gateway guarding the entrance to 
 an enclosure where lay the tombs of the kings; of 
 a purple-flowered vine shading a portico ; of a group 
 of Japanese girls coming into the city, their dainty 
 kimonos as fresh as the flowers they carried in 
 their hands. 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 191 
 
 The freshness, the light, the color all around 
 him, called to his love for the out-of-doors, for his 
 heart was young enough to respond to the subtle 
 persuasion of sunlight and color. His eyes drank 
 up the pictures. 
 
 How delightful it was to be rolling through 
 these scenes, without effort, on the cushions of a 
 motor-car! The absence of all exertion seemed to 
 add the last element necessary for complete 
 enjoyment. 
 
 They were deep within the valley, now. The 
 road serpentined from side to side in long loops. 
 On either hand the valley-walls rose so steeply 
 that they seemed walls indeed. Over those hills, 
 from bottom to top, the many tints of the tropical 
 jungle wove a gorgeous pattern. 
 
 "What a glorious drive!" he thought. "High 
 hills on either hand, and gardens all around us; 
 swinging underneath the palms, on a road as 
 smooth as velvet. I'd like to go on riding up 
 and down this road forever.** 
 
 As they went. Crane explained his plan to the 
 chauffeur. They would cross the island to its 
 eastern shore. They would stop at a place on the 
 margin of the bay, where a missionary had built 
 a rest-house for the use of those who might be 
 traveling around the island and who were belated. 
 Below the rest-house he had built a wharf, where 
 a motor-boat lay moored, for the use of its owner's 
 friends and acquaintances. Crane would pose as 
 a friend. With the launch he would escape Carding 
 easily, for it was the only boat of its kind on the 
 bay. When he thought of Carding, he rose in his 
 
192 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 place and looked backward. Another car was 
 following at a distance of half a mile. 
 
 Losing no time, they reached the place Crane 
 had in mind, for it transpired that the chauffeur 
 knew its exact location. But Crane's plan was 
 like other "plans of mice and men." The motor- 
 boat was gone. 
 
 "If you are very anxious to get around to the 
 other side of the island by water," said the 
 chauffeur, "there is a little steamer which carries 
 sugar from the W plantation to Honolulu. I could 
 take you in the car to the plantation.'* 
 
 "How about the deputy-sheriffs? They're an 
 officious set." 
 
 "They were called in yesterday. The owners 
 were afraid of damage suits." 
 
 Hurriedly Crane unfurled his map. A track led 
 southward from the place where he stood. It 
 joined the main road at a point perhaps two miles 
 back. He indicated the point to the chauffeur. 
 
 "Take the car and wait for me there. I'll walk 
 across. But if you meet anyone who wants to 
 know where I am, send him here," and he disap- 
 peared down a path densely shaded with algeroba 
 trees. 
 
 All this had passed in a twinkling. In another 
 twinkle, the car was turned around and was 
 re-traveling the main highway. It had not gone 
 two hundred yards when it was met by Carding's 
 machine, which stopped squarely in the middle 
 of the road. 
 
 "Where did you leave your passenger?" Carding 
 asked. 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 193 
 
 "At the boat-landing," the man answered, and he 
 mentioned the name of the landing's owner. 
 
 "Much obliged. I want to have a talk with that 
 fellow," and the machines separated and went on, 
 each on its own course. But at the landing there 
 was no sign of Crane or of the motor-launch. 
 
 "He can't have gotten away in the boat, or 
 we'd see it," and Carding scanned the surface of 
 the bay. 
 
 After wasting half an hour in a profitless search 
 of the vicinity, he decided to think the matter over. 
 For a while he studied the situation. And then 
 a light burst upon him. 
 
 " What a fool I am!" he thought. "I've been 
 lured over here on purpose, for that fellow has no 
 business on this side of the island. He lured me 
 over here to lose me. He's gone half a mile down 
 the road, rejoined his machine, and now he's 
 speeding back to Honolulu. And he thinks he has 
 me here, hunting for him. Well, I'll spoil that 
 plan," and dismissing all thoughts of pursuit from 
 his mind, he jumped into the machine and directed 
 the chauffeur to return to the city. 
 
 Meanwhile, Crane was following the lower road. 
 About the time that Carding decided to return to 
 Honolulu, Crane was re-entering his auto and was 
 beginning the journey to the W plantation. Once 
 again he could lean back on the deep cushions and 
 study the tropical pictures. 
 
 The machine swung softly along a red-dirt road. 
 Above them hung the cliffs. Miles to the left lay 
 the sea. Now the road was crossing a rolling 
 range of little hills. At one point it ran in full 
 
194 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 view of a pack-trail, cut in the foot of the cliff 
 where it sloped out to join the plain. The side 
 of the trail made a deep red scar against the 
 green. It was shaded with tall ferns, and beneath 
 it the ground was covered thick with vines. Along 
 the track a line of mules were moving. Two 
 Hawaiian muleteers, picturesque rascals with 
 broad-brimmed hats, kept the animals in motion. 
 
 Although there was no sunshine, for the weather 
 was very gray on the windward side of the island, 
 the combination of cliffs and ferns and trail and 
 pack-train appealed to Crane as the most ideally 
 tropical picture he had seen in the island. It 
 seemed to breathe an air of remoteness and 
 romance. It harmonized with his boyhood dreams 
 of the tropics. 
 
 He could enjoy the landscapes all the more when 
 he thought how satisfactorily events were shaping 
 out. Certain that Carding had been left hopelessly 
 "at sea," he began to regard the trip as a sort of 
 triumphal progress. With the enemy outwitted, 
 he might return unnoticed, in the plantation 
 steamer, to the harbor, and get back to the 
 bungalow, if not precisely in the role of conquer- 
 ing hero, at least unspied upon. 
 
 The machine topped the last rise, where he could 
 overlook the whole of the W plantation. The 
 chauffeur pointed toward the distant shore. 
 
 "There's the boat now, and they have steam up," 
 he said. 
 
 So far the car had been traveling at a very 
 moderate rate, for the man had been warned at 
 the garage to "take no chances with that gas- 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 195 
 
 wagon." Now he removed the muffler. The car 
 darted down the grade and across the plain. They 
 rolled between deep fields of cane, the sound of 
 the steamer's whistle in their ears, and when they 
 reached the shore ran up the little wharf, the 
 heavy machine rumbling over the planks. 
 
 Smoke pouring from its funnel, the little black- 
 hulled steamship Manoa still lay there. Its lines 
 were being cast loose. Crane settled with the 
 chauffeur, ran across the wharf, and jumped to 
 the deck of the vessel. 
 
 He was confronted by a short, sandy-haired man. 
 The man's beard was closely cropped, but his 
 mustache was very luxuriant. Captain John 
 Peterson was master of the Manoa. 
 
 "You can't travel in this vessel, young man," 
 he said. "We carry no passengers." 
 
 "Just this once, captain," Crane pleaded. "I 
 have a very important reason for wanting to make 
 the trip," and he tendered a twenty-dollar gold 
 piece. 
 
 The gold-piece made a difference. Peterson 
 reconsidered the matter. "But if this gets out,'* 
 he said, "they may fine me five hundred dollars." 
 
 "I guarantee that I won't tell," answered Crane, 
 and he raised his right hand very solemnly. 
 
 Peterson studied Crane's face. It seemed to 
 re-assure him. Slowly his fingers closed over the 
 twenty-dollar piece. The coin found a haven in 
 Peterson's pocket. 
 
 "All right," he said, and turned to the wheel- 
 house. "The cabin is aft there," he called over his 
 shoulder, and he indicated a companion-way. 
 
196 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Crane descended a narrow flight of stairs which 
 led down into the little cabin, but he found its 
 atmosphere overpowering. Hawaiian sugar is not 
 the pure white article we see on our tables. It 
 is a crude brown sugar, which must be shipped 
 to the mainland, there to be refined. It has a 
 slight odor. In a vessel which has been employed 
 for years in carrying cargoes of Hawaiian sugar, 
 the odors of all the cargoes that the boat has 
 carried seem to accumlate and build, the one on 
 the other, until the vessel's hull reeks. What had 
 seemed hardly more than a spicy aroma while he 
 was on deck, quickly drove him up to the open air. 
 
 But he carried a camp-stool with him, which 
 he placed on the after-deck. There he sat, watching 
 the surf and the shore. He heard the engine-room 
 bell clanging for "full speed" or "slow" as the 
 Manoa threaded the channel. White patches of 
 coral showed on either hand, the water lying glassy 
 green above them. Overhead there fluttered a 
 tropic-bird, its two long scarlet plumes streaming 
 behind it. Shoreward, Crane saw the white 
 crescent of coral beach, and beyond it the fields of 
 the plantation. They were over-shadowed by 
 tremendous cliffs, rising sheer and unscalable two 
 thousand feet or more above the plain. On board 
 the steamer the men who had been loading the 
 cargo, now lay on the forward deck, talking and 
 laughing. Crane heard their strange guttural tones 
 and guttural laughter. Presently one of them 
 began to twang an ukulele. What a change from 
 the automobile! 
 
 With the strange scent of the sugar hanging 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 197 
 
 heavy all around him, while the sound of the 
 native music mingled with the unfamiliar tones 
 and unfamiliar language of the men, Crane rested 
 there. The little steamer steered out into the 
 Pacific. The trade-wind was gentle; all indications 
 promised a smooth run to Honolulu. 
 
 And a smooth run it was, giving Crane an 
 opportunity to renew his acquaintance with the 
 southern end of the island, with its brown volcanic 
 cones and its green groves of cocoa-palms along 
 the shore. 
 
 Keeping just outside the reef, the Manoa 
 rounded Diamond Head. The surf was not 
 nearly so high as it had been on the morning of 
 Crane's arrival. The waves washed over the coral 
 breaking gently. At Waikiki, the afternoon crowds 
 of bathers were on the beach and in the surf. Some 
 were swimming on surf-boards through the 
 breakers. Others were riding the waves in native 
 canoes, which hung just outside the reef until they 
 could get a favorable start on the inner slope of 
 a wave, on which they rode gloriously shoreward. 
 
 The steamer was approaching one of the canoes. 
 It was plain they would pass it at very close 
 range. An idea suddenly occurred to Crane. 
 What if Carding had guessed his plan and should 
 be waiting on the wharf? Why not go ashore here 
 and avoid the harbor? He rushed to the wheel- 
 house. 
 
 "Captain, will you stop the engines for just a 
 minute, and let me speak to that canoe? I'd like 
 to get them to put me ashore." 
 
 The master of the Manoa hesitated. "I guess 
 
198 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 it would be a good plan," he answered. "If the 
 authorities caught me landing you on the wharf, 
 they might ask embarrassing questions," and he 
 rang the signals for "slow" and "stop." The bell 
 for "slow" seemed superfluous, for the steamship 
 was very deliberate in its movements. Speed never 
 had been contemplated when it was designed. 
 They drifted within thirty feet of the canoe. 
 
 It was an out-rigger, of the orthodox, native 
 type, hollowed out from the trunk of a palm tree. 
 Two native boatmen plied the paddles. A third 
 paddle was held by their passenger — a white man. 
 
 He was a young man of about Crane's age, and 
 was obviously a tourist. Staring at the steamer, 
 wondering what was wanted, he and his men 
 waited. One of the Manoa's crew began making 
 voluble explanations to the men. Crane addressed 
 the tourist. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir. I am in a great hurry 
 to get ashore. There are special reasons why I 
 want to land on the beach, instead of going around 
 by way of the harbor. If you'll be so kind as to 
 put me ashore, I'll be everlastingly grateful." 
 
 The young man was an American and a good 
 fellow. "Sure, I will," he cried, and dipped his 
 paddle into the water to bring the canoe to the 
 steamer's side. "But I'm afraid you'll get a ducking, 
 going through the surf." He and his men were 
 in bathing costume. 
 
 "Never mind," answered Crane; "I guess I'll 
 have to take the ducking," and he stepped into 
 the boat, where he squatted in front of one of 
 its men. 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 199 
 
 "Good-bye, captain," he called, and he heard 
 the steamer's bell ringing for "full speed," as the 
 boatmen paddled away, to resume their wait for 
 a favorable wave. One came, almost on the 
 instant. The paddles dug desperately into the 
 water, their strokes came like lightning, the men 
 shouted as they bent to the work, and then they 
 were riding shoreward at express-train speed on 
 the landward face of a breaker which roared and 
 surged and tumbled behind them. Watching 
 beach and palms growing larger and nearer. Crane 
 nervously gripped the sides of the canoe with both 
 hands, his straw hat pressed down over his ears, 
 as he faced the rush of the wind. Far over the 
 smooth surface of the lagoon they flew, and then 
 the men paddled the canoe quietly up to a little 
 wharf. 
 
 Crane stepped onto the wooden landing. He 
 thanked the tourist heartily, while donating half 
 a dollar apiece to the boatmen. 
 
 The landing belonged to a private residence. 
 Crane hurried through the grounds. His clothes 
 were fairly dry. It's true his coat had soaked up 
 more or less salt water from the flying spray, but 
 it was drying rapidly in the tropical sunshine. He 
 came out on the public highway. 
 
 On the farther side of the road there was a 
 public park. It extended to the very foot of 
 Diamond Head. The rough scarred walls of the 
 old crater rose, bare and brown, above the trees. 
 In the center of the park there stretched a great 
 oval of emerald turf. 
 
 That oval once had been a race-track. In the 
 
200 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 days of the Hawaiian monarchy, when gambling 
 was rife and stakes ran high, large sums of money 
 had changed hands on the course. Since then, the 
 automobile had come in, the horse had gone out. 
 Horse-racing had become one of the "lost arts." 
 The oval had been converted into a military 
 aviation-field. 
 
 Crane heard the buzzing of an aeroplane. An 
 aviator was at practise, wheeling and whirling 
 above the field. Down through the air the biplane 
 dropped, until it almost touched the turf. With 
 quick recovery of planes it skimmed across the 
 field, then spiraled upward through the azure air, 
 until it seemed to reach the sky. Drawn by a very 
 natural curiosity. Crane came to the edge of the 
 field. 
 
 Once more the aviator volplaned toward the 
 turf. This time he landed. Practice was over for 
 that day. "One of the staff-officers, I suppose," 
 Crane thought, as he saw the man climb from his 
 place, while the helpers approached to roll the 
 machine to its hangar. And then he recognized 
 the aviator as lieutenant Sherrill. 
 
 Crane had had to do some quick thinking that 
 day. In an instant he recognized the possibilities 
 of the situation, and was racing across the field to 
 meet and greet the lieutenant. 
 
 "Mr. Crane," said lieutenant Sherrill. 
 
 "Lieutenant Sherrill, IVe been watching your 
 evolutions. Would it be possible for you to take 
 me up in your machine?" 
 
 "It certainly would," answered the lieutenant, 
 and he turned to his men. "Boys, wait a minute." 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 201 
 
 "Have you any special object in wishing to make 
 an ascent?" he asked. 
 
 "I certainly have. I'm very anxious to get to 
 the top of one of the hills. I don't mean the top 
 of the range, but a point about half-way up. It's 
 a few miles north of Honolulu. If you could put 
 me there, I should be saved a lot of worry." 
 
 "What sort of a place is it for landing?" 
 
 "Just a narrow ridge, with a trail running 
 through the brush." 
 
 The lieutenant considered for a moment. Then 
 he picked up a piece of pliant cord, perhaps fifty 
 feet in length, in which he hurriedly began to tie 
 knots at intervals of about a foot. He fastened 
 it to the framework of the driver's seat. 
 
 "If you have the nerve, when we reach the place, 
 to go down this line, hand over hand, and drop 
 off when you touch the trail, I can land you. 
 Otherwise, I cannot." 
 
 "Just give me the chance," said Crane. Already 
 he was climbing to the passenger's seat. 
 
 The lieutenant sprang to his place, gave one 
 look at the fuel-guage, and started the engine. 
 Two minutes later they were sailing over the city. 
 
 It was Crane's first experience in a flying- 
 machine, and how glorious it seemed. They sailed 
 along at a height of a thousand feet. Straight 
 below them lay the narrow stretch of town which 
 fringed the shore. Before them spread the harbor 
 and the central portion of the city, with its close- 
 packed Oriental quarter. To their right were the 
 rice-fields and the hills; to their left the broad 
 Pacific's azure plain. 
 
202 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 The machine was not speeding. At thirty or 
 forty miles an hour it flew. It crossed the city, 
 which lay like a map. Above it they went, until 
 once more they saw rice-fields beneath them. Then 
 the Salt Lake craters opened out, lying like great 
 rings upon the ground, the largest filled with 
 sugar-cane, another with salt water. Crane could 
 see the cottage on the hill. He indicated it to the 
 lieutenant, shouting the words "white cottage" in 
 his ear. 
 
 Sherrill saw the little bungalow, and steered 
 straight toward it. Up the trail they flew. And 
 now Crane must descend the rope. 
 
 Lowering himself with cautious slowness, he 
 gripped one of the knots and hung in the air. 
 Down, down, crept his hands, until he hung at 
 the very end of the cord. The lieutenant shut off 
 the power. Flying directly against the trade-wind 
 the speed of the machine relative to the ground 
 was slow. 
 
 The trail was just beneath Crane. He felt the 
 ground touch his feet. He let go, ran a few steps, 
 lost his balance, and rolled in the grass by the 
 wayside. Meanwhile, the plane dipped down into 
 the ravine. It sank for a moment while Sherrill 
 was starting the motor. Then it whirled away 
 toward the lowlands and toward Honolulu. 
 
 Crane picked himself up, brushed the dust from 
 his clothes, and stood watching the flight of the 
 man-made bird, as it skimmed above the distant 
 plain. While he watched it, the events of the day 
 swept in review through his mind. 
 
THROUGH DUST AND FOAM 203 
 
 He thought of his journey by automobile, 
 steamer, canoe and aeroplane. What an experience! 
 Whirled from the exotic color of Honolulu's 
 suburbs; through the green luxuriance of matted 
 cane-fields; then over a turquoise sea and across 
 the breakers of a coral reef, to finish with a final 
 delirious plunge through the sky. Well, here he 
 was. He had returned to the hill, and had thrown 
 Carding off his track. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 
 
 THE four-masted ship Agamemnon, deep laden 
 with a cargo for Honolulu, had sailed from 
 Newcastle, New South Wales, forty days since. 
 Swinging across the South Pacific, with all of its 
 tremendous spread of canvas distended by a 
 snoring southwester, the ship had breezed into 
 the latitude of the Trades, had sailed past a 
 hundred palm-covered coral islands, had been 
 reported "in sight" from the lighthouse at Diamond 
 Head, and at nine o'clock that morning was 
 entering Honolulu harbor, in tow of the tug Kona. 
 
 The great ship made a noble picture, abounding 
 in grace and stateliness, a thing of beauty and a 
 delight to the eye, as sunset clouds and gorgeous 
 birds are things of beauty and delightful to the 
 eye. Straining leisurely at the end of a mammoth 
 hawser, the Agamemnon glided between the break- 
 waters. Its immense yards were neatly squared. 
 Most of its sails were furled, a few still hanging 
 loosely from the spars, where men were aloft and 
 at work. The Stars and Stripes were fluttering 
 from the monkey-gaff. 
 
 The Agamemnon was an American steel ship. 
 Its long smooth sides were painted white. Its 
 masts and yards of hollow steel were white. On 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 205 
 
 account of its color and its speedy voyages, it 
 was popularly known as the Great White Flyer. 
 
 Every year the Agamemnon came to Honolulu to 
 carry a cargo of sugar to New York by way of 
 Cape Horn, for on those long voyages a sailing- 
 vessel, with the whole interior of its hull from top 
 to bottom, from end to end, clear space for the 
 stowage of cargo, is a very economical carrier, — 
 no space taken up by expensive boilers and 
 machinery; power furnished by the free winds of 
 heaven. If all went well, the Flyer would leave 
 Honolulu three weeks later, with a full lading. 
 
 Captain James Coburn, master of the Agamem- 
 non, stood on the after-deck, while the ship was 
 being towed into Honolulu harbor. He wore a 
 black slouch hat and a suit of dark blue serge. 
 His hands were thrust into the side-pockets of 
 his double-breasted coat. In his mouth was a 
 long cigar. 
 
 Captain Coburn had been bom and raised "way 
 down east" in the state of Maine. He was square- 
 shouldered and red-faced and gray- whiskered ; not 
 over tall, but of great breadth and tremendous 
 strength. His methods of dealing with recalcitrant 
 seamen were his own. 
 
 He could put the fear of Coburn into the most 
 disorderly crew that ever tried to argue the point — 
 and do it, not with an automatic, but with his 
 own bull-voice and two hands. A year before, 
 when the Agamemnon lay in Honolulu harbor, 
 ready for sea, with a towboat ahead and the 
 hawser stretched, four of the crew had come to 
 the conclusion that they didn't want to go around 
 
206 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Cape Horn in Captain Coburn's company, and had 
 jumped overboard to swim ashore. But they had 
 neglected to take swimming lessons before they 
 jumped. All their lives they had remained as 
 ignorant of the art as is the average deep-water 
 seaman. There they had floundered at the vessel's 
 side. Coburn had observed their predicament, had 
 loosed some coils of rigging and had allowed the 
 ends to trail overboard for the men to sieze. With 
 the men hanging on the lines, he had signalled the 
 towboat to go ahead. The Agamemnon had left 
 harbor with the men dragging alongside. When 
 the ship was outside and the towline had been 
 cast off, the captain had leaned over the rail to 
 look down at the would-be runaways. There they 
 hung. An inquisitive shark or two sniffed around 
 them. 
 
 "Well, boys, do you want to go to New York, 
 or do you want to stay here?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh, for God's sake, captain, take us on board 
 and we'll be good." 
 
 Then they were hoisted in, over the rail, while 
 the Great White Flyer spread its sails for Cape 
 Horn and New York. 
 
 Such were captain Coburn's methods — simple 
 but effective. 
 
 That morning he puffed his cigar with a very 
 complacent air as he noted the neat appearance 
 of his ship. All around him, varnished mahogany 
 and burnished brass and polished paint reflected 
 the tropical sun. He looked across the golden 
 ripple on the water to where the boat-house of 
 the Honolulu Yacht Club rose against a back- 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 207 
 
 ground of royal palms. A mile away he saw the 
 rusty slopes of Punchbowl, and beyond them the 
 bright green of higher hills, lifting tall summits 
 against a stupendous roll of pearly, trade-wind 
 clouds. 
 
 "This is God's own country," he thought, "and 
 we must have a week or two on shore." 
 
 As soon as the ship was at the dock, he was 
 ashore, to report the vessel at the custom-house, 
 and to interview the consignees, and to visit the 
 office of the Advertiser to make sure that the 
 paper would note the fact that the Great White 
 Flyer had made the record run of the season from 
 Australia. Later, he took up with his wife and 
 daughter the subject of a vacation on shore. 
 
 They were at the lunch-table. The captain's 
 wife sat at his right hand, his daughter at his 
 left. Mrs. Coburn was nearly as solidly and 
 squarely built as her husband, while their daughter 
 — a little girl of twelve — seemed made of chips 
 from both the old blocks. 
 
 "What's the use of owning a bungalow if we 
 don't use it?" the captain asked. "It's three years 
 since we spent any time there. I vote that we 
 move into it while the ship's in port." 
 
 "But it's so high in the hills," said Mrs. Coburn. 
 
 "And what of that? You'll only have to climb 
 there once. Then we'll camp there till we're 
 ready to come down." 
 
 "Oh, let's go, ma, and get out of this horrid 
 coal-dust," begged the daughter. 
 
 "Good for you, Minnie," said Coburn. "A ship 
 discharging coal is no place for anyone to live, if 
 
208 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 they can get away. And we'll have a chance to 
 keep cool up there, too." 
 
 This last remark was inspired by the fact that 
 Honolulu harbor seems to have the power to 
 collect twice the heat to be found in any other 
 equal area in the island. Coburn was perspiring 
 freely in his blue serge suit. Now he threw aside 
 his coat and ate in his shirt-sleeves. 
 
 The coal settled it. Life on board ship would 
 be a compound of coal-dust and perspiration. 
 While Mrs. Coburn would have preferred to go 
 to a hotel, the others voted for the hills, and to 
 the hills they would go. 
 
 Captain Coburn addressed the first mate of the 
 Agamemnon. That officer faced the captain at 
 the square table, built for four. 
 
 "Mr. Swanson, I'll expect you to take charge of 
 the ship during my absence. You know where 
 the bungalow is, so that you can communicate 
 with me if there is any necessity." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The captain turned to a Chinese boy who, 
 attired in a long, blue gown which was clean and 
 crisp, stepped softly in and out of the room, 
 serving the meal. 
 
 "Boy, tell the steward I want him." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The boy returned, a minute later, with the 
 steward — who answered to the name of George. 
 He was an Englishman. 
 
 "George, we start for the hills this afternoon. 
 We have a bungalow there, which we make our 
 home while in port. I intend to take you along. 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 209 
 
 This boy will stay here and look after the officers. 
 He can do it, can't he?'* 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir! Very easily, sir! A first-class 
 boy, sir." 
 
 "Well, make out a list of the stores that we 
 ought to take with us. We may be gone three 
 weeks. Make it out right away. As soon as you 
 have it, call on Mr. Swanson for four men. Give 
 him four of the crew, Mr. Swanson, to get out 
 the stores and carry them up to the bungalow. 
 Have the carpenter nail poles to the sides of two 
 boxes. The men can carry the stuff that way. 
 And, steward, make arrangements at the market to 
 have fresh meat and eggs sent to us every day. 
 Once a day, you understand; not once a week. 
 There's a good stove at the bungalow, and an axe 
 to chop firewood, if nobody has broken in and 
 stolen it." 
 
 "Yes, sir. And shall I bring the mosquito-nets?" 
 
 "No, no. The place is up in the hills, not in a 
 sugar plantation. Now, get busy." 
 
 It was three o'clock that afternoon when captain 
 Coburn stood on the wharf and reviewed his 
 forces. A hack, which would carry himself and 
 family, was in attendance just outside the pier. 
 Also there was an express-wagon which would 
 carry their stores and personal effects. The said 
 stores were packed in two open boxes, to the 
 sides of which the carpenter had nailed strips of 
 one-inch board for handles. Between these pairs 
 of shafts stood four members of the crew. Three 
 more carried the suit-cases. The steward himself 
 
210 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 hovered around, racking his brains to make sure 
 that nothing had been forgotten. 
 
 "All set, and away we go!" and the captain 
 headed the procession up the pier. His wife and 
 daughter followed at his heels. Behind them 
 came the men with the boxes, while the suit-case 
 carriers and the steward closed the column. 
 
 But a tall young man, wearing a brass-bound 
 cap and a blue suit plentifully provided with brass 
 buttons, approached. He tapped one of the boxes 
 with a light bamboo cane. 
 
 "Are these things from the Agamemnon?" 
 
 "Yes, zur," answered one of the men. 
 
 "Then they'll have to pay duty," for the young 
 man was on the staff of the custom-house. 
 
 "Holy Mackerel!" ejaculated the captain. "I 
 wonder what these fellows will want next! See 
 here, young man; just take a look at those stores 
 and you'll find by the labels they came from New 
 York, — American goods, all of them. And these 
 suit-cases contain nothing but personal effects, 
 necessary for our comfort and convenience. There 
 is nothing dutiable in the lot." 
 
 An argument followed, accompanied with an 
 opening of suit-cases and a reference to regulations. 
 The upshot was that the procession was permitted 
 to proceed. 
 
 "More trouble getting started than it is to take 
 a ship around Cape Horn," fussed the captain, as 
 he superintended the loading of the express-wagon. 
 "Don't put that box on top of that suit-case, you 
 blank fool! Stand the cases under the seat." 
 
 In a minute more a fresh start had been made. 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 211 
 
 They drove northward through Honolulu's Oriental 
 quarter. Some of the seamen rode in the express- 
 wagon. Others walked behind it. Gradually the 
 city thinned out. They were in the open country. 
 
 At a leisurely rate they rode between the rice- 
 fields. They came to the ravine where they must 
 turn aside into the little trail leading to the 
 bungalow. They looked up the broad, volcanic 
 slope. More than two miles away, they saw the 
 little cottage, a white spot rising from the green 
 of a tree-covered ridge. 
 
 Hack and wagon were dismissed. The seamen 
 lifted the boxes of stores. In Indian file the party 
 followed the trail, the captain himself in the lead. 
 The seafarer, back from far voyagings, was 
 climbing the hills to spend a few weeks in his 
 island bungalow. 
 
 The captain now was dressed in a suit of white 
 duck. He caried the light coat over one arm. 
 With his right hand he occasionally waved his 
 white sun-helmet as a fan. 
 
 While they were within the ravine, they could 
 see nothing of the cottage. But when they had 
 climbed to the ridge where it stood, they saw it 
 only half a mile away. The afternoon sun was 
 reflected brightly from its white front. And from 
 the chimney there curled a wreath of smoke. 
 "Someone has broken in," and the captain 
 expressed his opinion of trespassers in terms which 
 were more professional than polite. 
 
 "Here! Andrew, Axel," he called, "Hurry up 
 with those boxes. We'll turn them out, as soon 
 as we get there.'* 
 
212 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 But when they came to the cottage, they saw 
 no one outside. Yet the door stood open. The 
 intruders must be within. 
 
 The captain crossed the little porch at a single 
 stride, and burst into the room which we have 
 described as fitted up like a ship's cabin. 
 
 "Have they turned this place into a jail?" he 
 stormed. 
 
 Four men, all of them well-dressed and respectable 
 in appearance, were tied hand and foot to as many 
 chairs. Their hands and feet were not fastened 
 together, but were bound to the legs and backs of 
 the chairs. The face of each was partially 
 covered with a red cotton handkerchief, such as 
 a Japanese laborer wraps around his head, while 
 at work in the cane-fields. The cloth covered the 
 mouth of each of the men. They said nothing, 
 but their eyes were very appealing. 
 
 The captain whipped out a pocket-knife and 
 began to cut the cords. Two of his men were on 
 his heels. He signed to them to help him. 
 
 Each prisoner, as soon as his hands were free, 
 tore the handkerchief from his face, and began 
 to pull a gag from his mouth — a gag consisting 
 of a bunch of cotton-waste such as is used in the 
 engine-room of a steamer. They hurried to the 
 open air, where they coughed out bits of the 
 cotton. Mrs. Coburn and her daughter, who had 
 been peeping in at the doorway, drew back to 
 let them pass. The lady's air was very disdainful. 
 
 "What's the meaning of this?" asked the captain. 
 
 The president undertook to be spokesman for 
 the prisoners. 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 213 
 
 "We are the victims of a dastardly outrage, sir," 
 he sputtered; "a dastardly outrage." 
 
 "How*s that?" 
 
 "I shall be only too happy to explain in full, 
 and to offer you my very sincere thanks for your 
 assistance, after we have refreshed ourselves with 
 a little drinking-water." 
 
 "All right," and the four men hurried to one 
 of the rain-water tanks, from which they drew a 
 bucketful of water. 
 
 "Come inside," said the captain, as soon as he 
 saw that they were ready, "and 1*11 hear your 
 explanation." 
 
 He ushered them to chairs. All took places 
 around the square table. Above the table there 
 was a skylight, a combination of glass and brass 
 and polished mahogany, through which the light 
 fell strongly on the white cloth. What with the 
 marine skylight and the marine views on the 
 walls and the ship's furniture, the setting was 
 very nautical. 
 
 The president cleared his throat once more. 
 The captain prepared to listen. His wife and 
 daughter, who betrayed an equal interest, rested 
 in deep wicker chairs which stood on the verandah 
 just without the door. 
 
 The president sketched in brief outline the 
 adventure of the night before ; the departure of the 
 party from the Cosmos Club for a week's shark- 
 hunting and tuna-fishing in the lochs of Pearl 
 harbor; the "hold-up" in the canyon which lay 
 between Salt Lake crater and the hills; Crane's 
 departure to return the limousine to its garage. 
 
214 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "The man at the bottom of this pernicious piece 
 of work is known to one of us," the president 
 explained, and he turned to Frank Atten. "There- 
 fore we shall have no difficulty in apprehending 
 the fellow; we'll have no trouble in handling him, 
 for his methods appear to be altogether childish. 
 Why, he left us last night without giving his 
 helpers any directions as to the treatment we 
 should receive. At first the Japanese wanted us 
 to sleep in the open. Then they found that the 
 house would not afford accommodation for their 
 entire party. After quarreling among themselves 
 as to who should occupy the rooms, they settled 
 the matter by giving the rooms to us, while they 
 pitched their camp behind the building." 
 
 "I suppose they placed a guard over you." 
 
 "Indeed they did." 
 
 "But you haven't explained what has become 
 of them, and how it came about that we found 
 you gagged and bound." 
 
 "I'm coming to that. They appeared to be very 
 ill-provided with food. A little rice was all they 
 had. But they allowed us to share it. We had 
 a meager breakfast and a worse lunch. This 
 afternoon we heard a great chattering among them. 
 We went outside, to see what had happened. A 
 deer had wandered almost into the camp. The 
 men were handling their knives, all of them eager 
 to start on a hunt which would supply them with 
 fresh meat. Our manager understands the 
 Japanese language. It appeared that all of them 
 wanted to go on the hunt. Not one of them was 
 willing to remain as a guard, and the upshot of 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 215 
 
 their argument was that they decided to tie us 
 up, and tied up we were. You saw how well they 
 had done their work." 
 
 "But what was their motive in bringing you 
 here in the first place?" 
 
 "A gang of discharged laborers, bent on 
 revenge." 
 
 "But you say they were led by a white man." 
 
 "He told us nothing as to his motives or 
 intentions. We are as much in the dark concern- 
 ing them as you are." 
 
 "Well, you are free now. I guess the best thing 
 for you to do is to make your escape." 
 
 At that moment one of the seamen came to the 
 door. 
 
 "There's a gang of Japs coming, zur." 
 
 Everyone hurried outside. Down the trail from 
 the higher hills a number of Japanese were coming. 
 On the shoulders of two of the men there rested 
 a pole, from which hung the body of a deer. 
 
 The captain and his party had come to the 
 rear of the bungalow. In a moment the Japanese 
 caught sight of them. They broke into an excited 
 chatter. Then they laid the deer on the ground. 
 Flourishing their cane-knives, they came on. 
 
 "Look out, captain. They're dangerous." This 
 from Deane. 
 
 "Oh, I'll take care of them," and Cobum 
 dragged from his hip-pocket his inseparable 
 companion — a snub-nosed Colt's revolver, of 45 
 caliber, loaded with dum-dum bullets. 
 
 Now the Japanese were within speaking distance. 
 
 "Put down those knives," the captain roared. 
 
216 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 The Japanese hesitated. Their leader, Wanto, 
 was not in sight, but one of these men could speak 
 a little English. He came forward alone. 
 
 "What do you fellows mean?" Coburn inquired; 
 "kidnapping people and bringing them to my 
 bungalow?" 
 
 "But, boss — please, boss — these all four men, 
 velly bad men. We work for them, we cut cane. 
 They no pay. White men buy shares in sugar 
 company, they no pay them. Those men go 
 Californee. All poor men — these fellow no pay 
 them nothing." 
 
 "Don't pay any attention to him, captain," Atten 
 volunteered. "It is true that we are the ofBcers 
 and manager of the X Sugar Company, but we 
 have always met our just obligations." 
 
 "You say that you are the officers and manager 
 of the X Sugar Company?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Why, I remember when your company was 
 organized, ten years ago. You fellows were 
 peddling the stock around Honolulu, and you 
 made some wonderful promises. The returns 
 would be immense. Has your company paid a 
 dividend yet?" 
 
 "We have been putting everything into develop- 
 ment work." 
 
 "Same old story. And I was fool enough to 
 buy ten shares of your stock. A thousand dollars 
 of my good money gone. You fellows have been 
 drawing liberal salaries and living like kings, while 
 I and two hundred California shareholders never 
 
THE MASTER OF THE AGAMEMNON 217 
 
 have received a cent. I shall inquire further into 
 your case, before I let you go," and, muttering 
 something about "rascally scoundrels," the master 
 of the Agamemnon turned to his men, 
 "Boys, just tie these fellows up again." 
 
XVII 
 
 A CHANGE OF BASE 
 
 A STORM of protest burst from the prisoners. 
 "You can't do that!" 
 "Don't do it, captain! We'll compromise." 
 
 "If you tie us up, you'll take the consequences." 
 
 "Oh, I'll stand the consequences," the captain 
 retorted. "You can't bluff me. Here, Andrew, 
 Axel!" 
 
 The grinning Norwegians had heard him, and 
 were hurrying to the spot. They snatched up the 
 cords from where they lay on the verandah, and 
 started to throw them around the limbs of the 
 prisoners. But, for a moment Atten was neglected. 
 There was the crash of an overturned chair as he 
 improved the opportunity by making a dash for 
 the trail. 
 
 He did not run very far. There was a yell from 
 the Japanese, and then Atten was submerged 
 beneath half-a-dozen pugnacious orientals. Within 
 five minutes he and his associates were as captain 
 Coburn had found them. 
 
 The captain still stood within the bungalow, 
 where he had supervised the tieing-up, when he 
 heard his daughter calling, 
 
 "Oh, father! Come out! Here comes a flying- 
 machine. 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 2J9 
 
 Coburn came out to the verandah. A biplane 
 was approaching. Straight up the trail it came. 
 And they saw that something hung below the 
 planes. 
 
 The captain lifted his marine glass. 
 
 "There*s a man hanging from that machine." 
 
 "A man!" 
 
 "I guess they mean to land him." 
 
 At that moment the biplane dipped until the 
 trees hid it from sight. It re-appeared a minute 
 later, skimming down into one of the ravines. 
 They saw that the man no longer hung beneath it. 
 
 "They landed him," the captain commented. 
 
 Crane hastened up the narrow trail, the trade- 
 wind blowing freshly in his face, and as he went 
 he looked ahead with almost feverish interest, 
 wondering whether all was well at the bungalow. 
 He realized his limitations, and fretted for fear 
 some mistake of his should spoil the plan. He 
 was no Isaac Newton, nor was he a dime-novel 
 detective, whose unerring brain might plot against 
 a thousand enemies with absolute certainty of 
 success. 
 
 "If ever a fellow was favored by fortune," he 
 thought, "I have been favored to-day. I only 
 hope my luck continues." 
 
 Then he decided that his luck had changed, for, 
 as he came in full view of the bungalow, he saw 
 captain Coburn, with his wife and daughter. Some- 
 thing had happened to change the situation. 
 
 Coburn greeted him. 
 
220 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "Well, young man, that was an original idea of 
 yours for getting here." 
 
 It occurred to Crane that the idea had not been 
 his, but he didn't try to debate the point. 
 
 "Are you the fellow who is responsible for this 
 business?" Coburn inquired; "trespassing on my 
 property and turning it into a jail." 
 
 "I'm the guilty party." 
 
 "Well, if the case were anything else than what 
 it is, you'd have landed yourself in jail. But I've 
 been talking with your prisoners, and I guess that 
 you and I have a common ground of complaint 
 against them. I was going to let them go, but 
 I tied them up again. Come in, and we'll discuss 
 this matter." 
 
 Crane entered, surprised to see the four men 
 bound so securely to chairs. They were not gagged, 
 but they preserved a sulky silence. 
 
 For a moment Coburn was busy, grouping the 
 party. 
 
 "Put those men there," and he motioned the 
 seamen to move the sugar-planters to one side. 
 
 "Sit down here," and he waved Crane to a place 
 at the center-table. 
 
 Then he tossed his white sun-helmet on the 
 damask cloth, and helped himself to a chair. 
 
 "Now, sir, I'll hear from you." 
 
 Crane and the captain faced each other across 
 the table. On one side of the room sat the row of 
 sugar-planters, dressed in white duck and tied in 
 their chairs. Behind them, with their backs to 
 the wall, stood the seamen, wearing their blue 
 woolen shirts and belted trousers. On the opposite 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 221 
 
 side of the room Mrs. Coburn and her daughter 
 rested on a wicker sofa. Overhead the Pacific 
 trade-wind was droning steadily across the 
 shingled roof. 
 
 Obviously there Was nothing for Crane to do 
 but to be frank. He went back to the beginning 
 and explained the situation as he had explained 
 it to the lieutenant on the day of his arrival in 
 Honolulu. 
 
 "If anything is to be done with these fellows," 
 he concluded, "it can be done only by applying 
 pressure to them. That's why I brought them 
 here." 
 
 Coburn considered the case. 
 
 "Well, young man," he began, "I rather like 
 your methods. They're something like my own. 
 You're a man who goes after results, and results 
 are what count. I'm inclined to let you go ahead 
 with your plans, whatever they may be. But you 
 can't use my bungalow. My family and I require 
 that." 
 
 "We might camp out behind the place, now that 
 we are here. I see the Japanese have pitched their 
 camp there." 
 
 This was emphasized by a puflF of wind, which 
 brought the aroma of roasting venison and the 
 sound of a crackling camp-fire. 
 
 The captain shook his head. 
 
 "If you stay here, it will be impossible to keep 
 the matter quiet," he objected. 
 
 "You mean that the seamen will spread a report." 
 
 "No, sir! The seamen! They know nothing 
 but what I want them to know, and they do 
 
222 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 nothing but what I tell them to do. But we have 
 made arrangements to have supplies sent us daily. 
 Many people may visit this place." 
 
 Obviously, the place would not do. 
 
 "We might clear a spot farther up the trail, and 
 pitch our camp there," Crane ventured. 
 
 "Well, talk it over with your helpers, not with 
 me," Coburn answered. "The less I and my people 
 know about your plans, the safer it will be for 
 you." 
 
 The advice sounded good. The prisoners were 
 lifted in their chairs and carried within the 
 Japanese cabin. They had been interested listeners 
 to the discussion. Now the president broke his 
 silence. 
 
 "If you will tell us what you want, we might 
 be able to settle it here and now." 
 
 "No doubt you would be quite willing to sign 
 any papers we might present," answered Crane; 
 "but you would repudiate those obligations as soon 
 as you were at liberty. No, no. To carry out 
 my plans will require time." 
 
 "In that case, why not adjourn to my home in 
 Manoa valley? There we could enjoy comfortable 
 quarters, and settle the affair at our leisure." 
 
 Crane considered the suggestion. 
 
 "The old fellow's idea is a good one," he thought, 
 "provided it is carried out according to my 
 notions." In imagination, he saw himself luxuri- 
 ating in the president's home, "reposing on downy 
 beds of ease." 
 
 "If you'll send an order, dismissing your servants 
 for a week, so that there will be nothing to prevent 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 223 
 
 my taking entire charge of the premises, — . But, 
 wait; how about your wife and family?" 
 
 "My wife and family are on a visit to the 
 mainland, and will not return for another month 
 or more." 
 
 But Crane was suspicious. Captain Coburn had 
 returned unexpectedly. Might not the same thing 
 happen in the case of the president's family? But 
 "Foxy Grandpa" was able to produce documentary 
 evidence to prove that what he said was true. A 
 recent letter from his wife settled the point. 
 
 Under Crane's direction, a letter, couched in the 
 most absolute terms, was drawn up and addressed 
 to the steward in charge of the Manoa valley 
 mansion. He was to "take the servants to Palama 
 for a week's vacation, or until ordered to return." 
 He was to remove the dogs from the premises, 
 and was to lock up everything. The keys were to 
 be sent to the president by the messenger. 
 
 Wanto himself carried the message. He was 
 given strict injunctions to see that all of its 
 provisions were obeyed. He realized their import- 
 ance too well for any doubt to arise as to his 
 zealousness. 
 
 The sun had set before Wanto started. 
 Meanwhile, captain Coburn and his party had 
 established themselves in the bungalow. Crane 
 and his prisoners had joined the Japanese in their 
 camp. They lay down to snatch a few hour's sleep 
 before the return of Wanto. 
 
 He came at midnight, bringing a positive 
 assurance that the Manoa valley home had been 
 
224 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 vacated. He had seen the servants established in 
 Palama. He brought the bunch of keys. 
 
 Now Crane must descend the hill, for it was 
 his intention to go himself to the president's home 
 and return with the president's limousine, driving 
 it to the foot of the trail. This was the machine 
 whose gray hood, gray body and gray tires, had 
 impressed lieutenant Sherrill as a symphony in 
 gray. Crane would use it to convey the prisoners 
 to Manoa valley. 
 
 They were roused. They had been lying on 
 the ground, where they had fallen into a none-too- 
 refreshing sleep, which had not improved their 
 tempers. In sulky tones they asked "what was 
 wanted?" 
 
 "We want you to come down the hill, to the 
 highway," Crane explained. 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "I shall bring a machine and take you to 
 Honolulu." 
 
 "What will you do with us there?" the manager 
 wanted to know. 
 
 "You'll find out." 
 
 "He means that he will take us to my home in 
 Manoa valley," the president prompted, and then 
 he added, addressing Crane. "But you returned 
 the machine to the garage. Do you want Mr. 
 Deane to write another note, asking the manager 
 of the garage to let you have it?" 
 
 "That is quite unnecessary. I shall use your 
 machine." 
 
 "Oh ! ! You help yourself to anything you want." 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 225 
 
 "Quite so. You have been making a specialty 
 of that sort of thing, so far. Now it's my turn." 
 
 Whereupon the prisoners permitted themselves 
 to be led toward the trail. The path lay plain 
 before the party. The night was a warm Hawaiian 
 night. The sky was spangled with great tropical 
 stars. No showers came drifting from the higher 
 hills. The prisoners were led rapidly down the 
 hill. 
 
 They came to the foot of the trail. There they 
 halted, and there four of the Japanese remained 
 to guard them. The rest of the Japanese 
 accompanied Crane on his way to Manoa valley. 
 
 Two hours of rapid walking brought them to 
 the place. Standing before the wall of coral rock, 
 Wanto fitted a key to the wrought-iron gate. He 
 swung it open without delay, and the party pene- 
 trated behind the shade of the triple hedge of 
 cocoa-palms. They ascended the winding avenue 
 which led to the verandah. 
 
 Skirting the dark outlines of the mansion, Wanto 
 led the way to the garage. Again he had made 
 careful note of the key. In a moment he had the 
 door open. There stood the luxurious limousine, 
 with its upholstery of satin and velvet. The glare 
 of Crane's electric torch flashed on its gray body. 
 
 Cautiously they drew it out into the yard. 
 Crane satisfied himself that the fuel-tank was full. 
 Then he directed the Japanese to take up their 
 quarters in the garage. They had brought their 
 blankets, although their cabin had been left where 
 they had pitched it behind the bungalow. 
 
 He started the machine, and turned it into the 
 
226 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 avenue of palms. The heavy machine rolled 
 around the curves to where the great iron gate 
 afforded exit. As it went, the glare of the head- 
 lamps, glancing capriciously as the car took the 
 curves, showed the tall white columns of palms 
 reaching up to a curved tangle of fronds. Crane 
 had almost reached the gate, when he shut off the 
 power and applied the brakes abruptly. The light 
 showed a man standing in the middle of the way. 
 
 One of the Japanese had accompanied Crane, 
 to close the gate. They both jumped from the 
 car and hurried forward to question the man, 
 who stood in the full glare of the head-lamps. 
 
 He was a poor Hawaiian. The Hawaiians are 
 an improvident race, and this man was a living 
 exemplification of improvidence. His coat was full 
 of holes. So were his shoes. His battered straw 
 hat no longer had a crown. 
 
 The Japanese grasped him by one arm, while 
 asking, 
 
 "Wha' you want?" 
 
 "Poi! Poi!" and the man pointed to his mouth. 
 
 "He say him hungry," explained the Japanese. 
 
 "But why does he come here?" asked Crane. 
 
 "Why you fellow come here?" asked the 
 Japanese. "This place no soup-kitchen." 
 
 "Want poi. No can sleep." 
 
 Crane reflected that a hungry man, too hungry 
 to sleep, is no respecter of times and places. 
 Crane's nervousness disappeared. This was nothing 
 but a native beggar. 
 
 But on second thought, why should the fellow 
 be begging? There was plenty of work in the 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 227 
 
 cane-fields for such as he. Apparently the 
 Japanese thought so, too. 
 
 "Why you no go-to-work?" he asked. "Why 
 you no go sugar plantation, dig ditch, hoe cane?" 
 
 The beggar tried to explain. 
 
 "I work for this man," he said, and he pointed 
 up the avenue. Crane judged that he referred to 
 the president of the X Sugar Company. "I work 
 for this man. One day, I drink too much gin. 
 Manager fire me. Now, I no can get steady job. 
 Work, one, two day — no more." 
 
 "I wonder if they put him on the black-list?" 
 
 "Yes, Yes ; black-list. Tell everybody me no 
 good. Some day I take cane-knife, kill this fellow, 
 if I no can get poi. This man and his friends, 
 mean fellows. His friend eat at hotel. He eat 
 poi — eat beefsteak. Me look in window. He laugH. 
 One man give me quarter dollar. Then I eat poi." 
 
 The above statement did not enlighten Crane 
 very much, but he grasped the idea that the 
 president and his friends had amused themselves 
 at the beggar's expense, and that they were about 
 as popular with the beggar as they were with him. 
 
 "A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind." 
 Crane decided that he must do something for the 
 man. He sent the Japanese to the garage for 
 some bananas. While he waited, he pressed five 
 dollars into the Hawaiian's hand. 
 
 The poor fellow was profuse in his thanks. Now 
 the bananas came — half a dozen big Brazilians. 
 He hardly waited to peel them, in his wolfish 
 eagerness. The suddenness with which they 
 disappeared testified to his hunger. 
 
228 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 While Crane watched the beggar eat, it occurred 
 to him that the man might get employment as a 
 stevedore. He took out his note-book and hur- 
 riedly wrote a line to the master of the Agamem- 
 non. 
 
 Captain Coburn; Dear Sir: 
 
 Here is another victim of the methods of the 
 X Sugar Company, a poor fellow who cannot get 
 work. Can't you arrange that he be employed in 
 unloading the Agamemnon? He looks to be 
 sufficiently able-bodied. 
 
 Yours, Kenneth Crane. 
 
 Crane tore the leaf from his note-book and gave 
 it to the man, with an explanation that it might 
 bring him work if presented to the captain. The 
 Japanese explained where the captain might be 
 found. Once more the man was profuse in thanks. 
 Then they ushered him without the grounds. Crane 
 returned to the driver's seat of the limousine, and 
 drove the car into the highway. Behind him he 
 heard the wrought-iron gate clang shut. 
 
 He was alone, in the small hours of the night, 
 whirling through the tree-shaded avenues of 
 Honolulu. As he went, he thought how one 
 vicissitude was piling upon another! How sud- 
 denly, from time to time, he had been compelled 
 to change his plans! As he guided the car beneath 
 the long, dark lines of algeroba trees, he wondered 
 whether he should find the prisoners waiting for 
 him when he returned to the trail. The situation 
 had changed its complexion so frequently and so 
 suddenly, that it would not have amazed him had 
 he found them gone. 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 229 
 
 But they were there. One of the guards stood, 
 a dark shadowy figure, on the highway, to warn 
 Crane that he had reached the trail. Other dark 
 and shadowy figures approached. The car swung 
 around. The manager and officers of the X Sugar 
 Company were escorted to places within the 
 limousine. 
 
 With nine passengers, quarters were cramped. 
 However, there was no time to argue over 
 such points. Time was flying. Crane knew his 
 way now, and he let the car out for the return 
 journey. But at no time did he unmuffle the 
 exhaust. Swiftly and silently, like a gray shadow, 
 the great gray limousine slid along the road. 
 
 Before they had reached Manoa the sky was 
 commencing to brighten overhead. Dawn — cool, 
 quiet, shadowless — was descending from the up- 
 reaching mountain-tops. The first glimmer of sun- 
 light had come to the hills when the machine 
 swung into the gigantic alcove made by the valley, 
 stopped for an instant before the wrought-iron 
 gates, and then, as they were flung open, ascended 
 the winding avenue of palms. The car whirled 
 through the grounds and stopped before the 
 garage. 
 
 The president was nodding. His night's rest 
 had consisted of a very few hour's sleep, snatched 
 while lying on the ground. The experience was 
 telling on him. 
 
 He expected to be taken to his bed-room, but 
 this formed no part of Crane's plan. The prisoners 
 were herded into the garage. They asked for cots, 
 and the president assured Crane that the house 
 
230 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 contained a supply, which he could point out on a 
 moment's notice. 
 
 He was permitted to do so. The cots were 
 brought out and set up in the garage. There were 
 so many that Crane felt moved to inquire whether 
 the president intended to furnish a field-hospital. 
 It appeared, however, that they belonged to an 
 outing-club, of which the president's son and heir 
 was a member. 
 
 The cots pleased the Japanese. There were 
 enough for all. The garage was roomy, and it 
 hummed with the noise of installing the beds. The 
 Japanese, who had had less sleep than their 
 prisoners, flung themselves down and prepared to 
 enjoy their rest. Placing themselves before doors 
 and windows, so that the prisoners could not 
 attempt an escape without arousing someone, they 
 were asleep in a minute. 
 
 Meanwhile, Crane had entered the mansion, 
 For the time-being, it was his and he would enjoy 
 it. Nor did he feel himself to be a trespasser. 
 Whence had come the money which had built 
 that home, and had made possible the delightful 
 grounds which surrounded it? Did not all of 
 this luxury represent dividends which had been 
 filched from the stockholders? Well, the stock- 
 holders were about to enter into the possession of 
 what belonged to them. Better days were dawning. 
 As Crane entered the room reserved for the presi- 
 dent's son and heir, and prepared to make up his 
 night's sleep, a delicious thrill of accomplishment 
 stirred him. 
 
 He felt as happy as the Prodigal Son exchanging 
 
A CHANGE OF BASE 231 
 
 a menu of corn-husks for a menu of veal. But the 
 excitement and vicissitudes of the day and night 
 had "gotten on his nerves." Throngs of hurrying 
 pictures flitted before his mental vision. All the 
 experiences of the past twenty-four hours kept 
 repeating themselves in his mind. 
 
 How he had deluded Carding, luring him to 
 the windward side of the island, there to lose him! 
 But had he lost him? Was Carding still searching 
 windward Oahu for Crane? If so, all was well. 
 If not, who could tell what mischief that trouble- 
 some young man might accomplish? Yes, Carding 
 was the one fly in the ointment. 
 
 But that idea was eclipsed by thoughts of the 
 success he had had in handling the prisoners. It 
 was true he had grazed disaster, but the result had 
 transpired so that he felt himself stronger than 
 ever. His captives were completely at his mercy, 
 and in a place which, shielded behind its triple 
 hedge of cocoa-palms, was wonderfully secluded. 
 Here he would have every opportunity to tame 
 them, until there would be no doubt of their 
 keeping any agreement into which they might 
 enter. 
 
 Gradually all ideas blurred together in Crane's 
 mind. He was sleeping soundly, while at the 
 windows the light of the tropical day beat against 
 the thick shades and heavy curtains. 
 
XVIII 
 
 THE HOME OF THE SUGAR PLANTER 
 
 WHEN Crane awoke it was afternoon. Six 
 hours of sleep had refreshed him wonderfully. 
 He sprang from his bed and hurried to raise 
 the shades which covered the deep dormer 
 windows. 
 
 The windows faced the garage. He saw the 
 Japanese bustling in and out of its door. They 
 had raided the president's pantry and were busy 
 with preparations for a late breakfast. Although 
 only laborers, one or two of them were proficient 
 cooks. The fragrance of an appetising meal rose 
 to Crane's window. He bathed, dressed and 
 hurried to the verandah, where the table had been 
 set. 
 
 An orange tree, spangled with golden fruit, grew 
 just outside the railing. As Crane took his seat, 
 he reached out and plucked one of the great golden 
 globes. He was eating the fruit while he discussed 
 the situation with Wanto. 
 
 It appeared that the prisoners had given no 
 trouble. Wanto was eager to get Crane's directions 
 with regard to them. To Wanto life meant work, 
 and work meant carrying out the orders of some- 
 one above him. 
 
 "Have you fed them yet?" Crane inquired. 
 
 "No, no. They wait, while we eat." 
 
 "Well, feed them as soon as we have finished. 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 233 
 
 And, while they're eating, I'll take a look over 
 this place. You know, I've never seen it before. 
 I'll find out what sort of a hotel we have." 
 
 Crane finished his breakfast and saw the 
 Japanese start towards the garage. Then he 
 turned to explore the Manoa valley mansion. 
 
 Ignorant of the "plan" of the house, he passed 
 through a short vestibule which lay just within the 
 main entrance. At the farther end of the vestibule 
 he came to a great carved door of koa wood. As 
 soon as he passed it, he found himself in a 
 square central space, around which the house had 
 been built. But this central court, instead of 
 being open to the sky, was roofed with colored 
 glass and furnished as a reception-hall. 
 
 The furnishings fairly made him gasp. His 
 eyes roved curiously over the apartment. 
 
 He saw a great square room, distinguished by 
 the utmost possible richness of decoration. Through 
 a dome of rose-tinted glass the light fell on a floor 
 that was a riot of sumptuous rugs, with huge 
 white pelts of the polar bear, deep and fluffy; 
 tawny tiger skins from India and leopard skins 
 from Africa. Each lifted a round head and opened 
 a scarlet mouth with a snarling display of ivory 
 fangs. 
 
 Upon the rugs stood furniture of oriental 
 ebony — high-backed sofas and chairs carved in 
 intricate dragon patterns. The dark, heavy table 
 was half covered with a bright cloth, in the center 
 of which stood a tall Japanese vase crowned with 
 a great cluster of chrysanthemums, white and 
 lemon-yellow. 
 
234 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 At the end of the apartment a wide flight of 
 stairs, carpeted with crimson, led to a gallery 
 supported on arches of some dark wood. Between 
 the arches there stood bronze statues. 
 
 The remaining sides of the room, above a few 
 feet of dark panelling, were decorated with paint- 
 ings which impressed Crane as very novel. Painted 
 directly upon the plaster of the walls were sea- 
 scapes — scenes on the coast of China. The 
 pictures were outlandish with high-sterned junks 
 and square-ended boats, with high square sails, 
 that went drifting lazily over oily bays, between 
 steep rocky islets crowned with white pagodas. 
 Great watery mountain-ranges of pale pink clouds 
 billowed above dim horizons. 
 
 Figuratively, Crane's eye drank in everything, — 
 the rose-tinted dome, the riot of rugs, the oriental 
 furniture, the lofty gallery with its crimson stair- 
 case, the carved panelling, and the paintings on 
 the walls. The wealth of splendid and tasteful 
 decoration seemed to him like the vision of a 
 dream. 
 
 "So this is the home of a sugar-planter!" he 
 thought. "This is the style in which he lives! 
 Look at the luxury! Here he has been living in 
 a lovely home, surrounded by grounds which are 
 a blend of bliss and blossoms, while the majority 
 of the California stockholders must look twice at 
 a dollar before they spend it." 
 
 Nowhere in that room had expense been spared, 
 and nowhere could there be found any evidence 
 of a lack of taste. 
 
 From that apartment Crane entered another. 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 235 
 
 which appeared to be the president's private study. 
 There were books in plenty. A globe stood in one 
 corner. A great carved writing-table, resting on 
 a sumptuous Persian rug, occupied the center of 
 the floor. The room impressed Crane as being 
 the very place in which to arraign the prisoners. 
 He summoned Wanto. 
 
 "Bring them in, Wanto." 
 
 They were brought. They were not bound in 
 any way, but were guarded by the full force of 
 Japanese. The Orientals remained in the back- 
 ground, guarding all exits. Each of them puffed 
 a cigarette. In fact, a Japanese without a cigarette 
 would seem as incongruous as a tropical island 
 without a palm tree, or Honolulu without a tourist. 
 
 The prisoners were provided with seats by the 
 side of the table. 
 
 Crane presided as master of ceremonies. He sank 
 in a deep arm-chair which had been the president's 
 favorite. Behind it stood a revolving bookcase, 
 on top of which there rested a specimen of 
 Japanese art, — a bronze statuette of a Manchurian 
 tiger. 
 
 For a moment Crane sat there, looking across 
 the table, eyeing the men before him. Pride 
 stirred within him. Only a few days before he 
 had landed, unnoticed on the shores of Hawaii. 
 To-day — he was absolute master of the lives and 
 fortunes of four proud and prominent citizens, 
 men who had despised him. 
 
 How to humiliate them most? He called on 
 Wanto. 
 
 Coming forward to the side of Crane's chair, 
 
236 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Wanto took the floor. He gloried in the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "So, you are the men who would defraud us 
 of all payment," he began, addressing the prisoners. 
 "You are the men who drove us from your 
 presence with dogs! You roared with laughter 
 when you saw your dogs pursue us to the gate. 
 You seemed to think that we were helpless. Fools ! 
 Do you think that brave men can be driven to the 
 last extremity and never lift a hand in their own 
 defense? You paltry fools! Four men, unarmed, 
 and with no power save such as the law gives 
 them. You had not even the sense to use that. 
 
 "You swelled and strutted. You seemed to think 
 that you were gods, gifted with supernatural 
 powers which made it impossible for us to reach 
 you. And yet, the second attempt we made to 
 take you, we took you as though you were a bunch 
 of rabbits. It would have cost us ten times the 
 effort to capture your wolf-hounds. They might 
 have involved us in some danger. But you! poor 
 paltry foois! white rabbits!" and Wanto paused 
 for breath. 
 
 The captives listened sourly to this burst of 
 Japanese eloquence. Then the manager snarled, 
 
 "Tell us what you want and get it over." 
 
 "You surely are poor paltry fools, as he says," 
 said Crane, "if you adopt such a tone as that, in 
 your present predicament." 
 
 The president spoke. 
 
 "It's easy enough for you to revile us," he said. 
 "Here you hold us prisoners. If we answer you, 
 you will silence us with wads of cotton waste. 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 237 
 
 thrust into our mouths. But if we could speak 
 freely, we might put another complexion on 
 the case." 
 
 "Humph! Perhaps you would use the old 
 argument, that you have been putting all of the 
 proceeds into development work. That's stale." 
 
 Atten spoke up, but in a more conciliatory tone. 
 
 "You seem to have overlooked, sir, one of your 
 helpers' statements. He says that we *have no 
 power save such as the law gives us.' But isn't 
 that power considerable? It is true that you hold 
 us, just at present. But, will the law take no 
 cognizance of your crime? Will no inquiry be 
 made? May you not involve yourself in a desperate 
 situation, if you continue this course?" 
 
 "And you seem to have overlooked," answered 
 Crane, "that you are dealing with men whom you 
 have driven desperate. Why, if I gave the word, 
 these men would finish you as quickly as your 
 wolf-hounds would finish them. The only reason 
 they don't harm you is because I have persuaded 
 them that we may . be able to come to an 
 understanding and a settlement which will be much 
 more advantageous than your death." 
 
 The expressions on the faces of the Japanese 
 bore out this statement. Crane saw the prisoners 
 turn pale. 
 
 "Don't ask me to sympathize with you," the 
 Californian continued. "You got yourselves into 
 your present predicament. But before we tell 
 you our demands, we propose to tell you a few 
 things about yourselves and your methods it will 
 be good for you to hear. The world is getting too 
 
238 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 enlightened to tolerate such methods as yours. 
 Men have come to know that real prosperity rests 
 on the general prosperity of all, not on the power 
 of one man to rob another. The methods of the 
 robber-barons of the Middle Ages have been left 
 behind us with the Middle Ages. You tried to 
 revive them." 
 
 "And yet, what we did is being done all the 
 time." 
 
 **To some extent, yes. But not on such a 
 wholesale plan as the one you followed. Men can 
 always be exploited to some extent. But when 
 you carry such methods too far, they are driven to 
 rebellion. Then, look out. What brought this 
 trouble upon you, was your own grasping short- 
 sightedness, your desire to exploit your fellow-men, 
 rather than to serve and to create. And yet all 
 the while, it was only in so far as you served and 
 created, for the benefit of the rest of the world, 
 that you prospered or could prosper." 
 
 "I wish you would make that clear." 
 
 "Certainly, I will. Does the X plantation 
 produce anything?" 
 
 "Yes; sugar." 
 
 "And of what use is that sugar?" 
 
 "It is a food." 
 
 "Then you have been producing sugar to feed 
 mankind. Now, if that isn't creating and serving, 
 I'd like to know what is?" 
 
 "Then you admit that our ambition has been 
 to create and to serve." 
 
 "No, I don't. You never thought of that side of 
 the case. You regarded the plantation only as a 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 239 
 
 revenue-producer. The rest of the world could 
 starve and rot for all you cared. And yet, all the 
 while, you only existed because the rest of the 
 world was able to buy your sugar. 
 
 "You produced sugar; the gold-mines of Cali- 
 fornia produced gold. You exported your sugar to 
 California. You exchanged your sugar for its 
 gold. You were living under a co-operative system. 
 You owed your every cent to it. And yet the 
 very thought of co-operation grated on your 
 nerves. 
 
 "Had it been in your power to close the gold- 
 mines of California, you would have given the 
 word in an instant. Had it been in your power 
 to destroy the grain-fields of California, you would 
 have done so, for such is your amiable disposition. 
 And by so doing you would have destroyed the 
 purchasing power of the very people to whom you 
 wished to sell. In your silly shortsightedness you 
 were hating the very system which made your 
 prosperity possible." 
 
 Crane considered for a moment and then went 
 on, 
 
 "But if I talked till doomsday I doubt whether 
 I could change your mental attitudes. I'm here 
 to dictate terms. If you want to save your necks, 
 you'll agree to those terms. Otherwise, 1*11 let 
 you argue the case with the Japanese." 
 
 The prisoners were paying the best of attention. 
 They looked eagerly toward Crane. But were 
 they looking at him? Or was their attention 
 centered on something they saw behind him? The 
 Californian stopped and cast a glance backward 
 
240 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 over his shoulder. He saw only a row of Japanese 
 on the verandah. 
 
 Crane turned again to his prisoners and pro- 
 ceeded to dictate his terms. 
 
 "Well, we'll let by-gones be by-gones/* he began. 
 
 "How magnanimous!" was the president's 
 thought. 
 
 "Your homes and personal property will be left 
 you,'* Crane continued. "There will be no danger 
 of your suffering from poverty. But your incomes 
 from the X plantation must be cut off. You must 
 sign over every share you own. Those shares will 
 be divided, pro rata, among the minority stock- 
 holders." 
 
 Crane expected an outburst of expostulation from 
 the prisoners. None came. 
 
 "And we will hold you," he concluded, "until 
 the transfer has been put through the banks in 
 due and legal form, and we are satisfied that you 
 will abide by it. Do you agree?" 
 
 "Certainly we agree. You are master of the 
 situation.'* 
 
 "Then all that remains for to-day, is to make 
 out and sign the papers." 
 
 But Crane heard an angry growl from the 
 Japanese behind him. This easy victory would 
 not satisfy them. They must have an opportunity 
 to give the prisoners an object-lesson. Atten 
 afforded the opportunity. 
 
 "I suppose you don't call this stealing?" he said. 
 
 "No sir, I do not. To recover what rightfully 
 belongs to me, is not stealing. Mr. Atten, you 
 seem to be too *fresh.' Little boys should be 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 241 
 
 seen and not heard. I guess we'll have to impress 
 that on your seat of consciousness. Wanto, bring 
 a barrel and teach this fellow manners." 
 
 In an instant, a barrel had been brought. Four 
 Japanese hurled themselves on Atten. They threw 
 him over the barrel and held him there, while two 
 others plied the bamboos. The rest of the 
 Japanese shouted with laughter. The attorney 
 howled with pain and rage. Whack! Whack! 
 Whack! Not until all had taken a turn at 
 wielding the bamboo, did they release him. 
 
 The object-lesson was effective. The prisoners 
 lost all desire to criticize Crane and his methods. 
 He settled himself at the table to make out the 
 papers. 
 
 It was a long and toilsome process, for he had 
 planned a set of very binding agreements. I 
 warrant you he did not forget any technicality. 
 The hours flew by. Meanwhile, half of the 
 Japanese were dismissed to the kitchen, where they 
 set about the preparation of dinner. 
 
 At last the papers were ready and were passed 
 across the table to be signed by the president and 
 his associates. While the signatures were being 
 affixed. Crane leaned back and stretched his feet 
 and flexed the muscles of his forearm, for he was 
 weary with writing. 
 
 Directly behind him was a wide arched window, 
 its halves swinging sideways on hinges out over 
 the verandah. It had been thrown open, and in 
 the opening the Japanese were sitting, smoking 
 endless cigarettes and chattering in low tones. 
 Though the time was near sunset, the sky was very 
 
242 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 bright. The light fell strongly over Crane's 
 shoulder. 
 
 As he sat there, he let his gaze ramble around 
 the luxurious room. The decorations were dis- 
 tinctly Oriental, with such a profusion of tall 
 porcelain jars and Japanese armor, of sleepy 
 Buddhas and ebony furniture, of screens and 
 bronzes and ivory carvings, it seemed as if an 
 art shop of Tokio had been transported to Honolulu. 
 Crane's eye was caught and held by a superb 
 Japanese screen with panels of embroidered silk. 
 Across its panels ran a picture of a gigantic eagle 
 hovering above a wind-whipped sea and a rocky 
 coast. White-capped waves were roaring toward 
 the shore, and above the waves there flew white 
 sea-birds. In the very foreground a low ragged 
 rock rose from the water and to its summit the 
 eagle clung. One could almost feel his talons 
 gripping the rock, as with wings outspread and 
 plumage ruffled and head bent and yellow beak 
 thrust down, he peered into the sea beating and 
 surging below him. All the interest centered on 
 the giant bird. 
 
 The design expressed action, action to the Nth 
 power, for the great eagle was vibrant with life, 
 aroused, powerful and predatory. The technique 
 was perfect. As a picture, that piece of embroidery 
 far surpassed the average oil-painting. And the 
 luster of the silk lent it a tone which no oil- 
 painting can ever possess. 
 
 Crane glanced from the picture to its owner — 
 the president. 
 
 "He certainly has taste," Crane decided; "taste 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 243 
 
 which he has gratified at our expense. Hereafter, 
 he'll gratify it at his own. 
 
 The president had finished signing the papers 
 and had passed them on. Now he was fanning 
 himself with his handkerchief, though the air did 
 not seem to be particularly warm for a day in the 
 tropics. 
 
 Crane watched him for a moment before he 
 asked, 
 
 "Old man, can't you amuse yourself in any way, 
 except by playing with your handkerchief?" 
 
 "I think I might. I could slap your face, for 
 instance," and the president flicked the end sharply 
 on Crane's cheek. 
 
 For a moment the Californian was too surprised 
 to speak. Then he sprang to his feet. 
 
 "I'll skin you alive," he shouted. 
 
 "Oh, I don't think so," and at the same moment 
 Crane was conscious of a movement behind him. 
 Part of the light from the window had been cut 
 off. A shadow fell on the papers before him. As 
 the papers darkened, the faces of the men across 
 the table lit with a gleam of triumph. And then 
 bedlam broke loose. 
 
 He saw the manager and the president rise 
 and hurl themsleves upon him. Behind him he 
 heard the thud of bodies, the thrashing of heavy 
 boots, the clicking of handcuffs, accompanied by a 
 medley of grunts, snarls and shouts. He was 
 dimly conscious of Atten overthrowing Wanto. 
 Wanto had snatched the bronze statuette from the 
 bookcase and was wielding it in his own defense. 
 
244 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Then the atmosphere cleared, and Crane found 
 himself and his helpers, helpless on the floor, 
 bound hand and foot, while over them exulted 
 John Carding and a crew of jabbering, yellow- 
 faced Koreans. 
 
 But, if the Japanese were tied, their mouths 
 were at liberty. With all their lungs, they were 
 shouting for help, and help was coming. The 
 rest of the party were galloping along the verandah. 
 The planks were thundering to the beating of their 
 heavy boots. The Koreans turned to meet them. 
 Atten seemed to think that once more he was 
 playing college football. At the head of Carding's 
 Koreans, he threw himself upon the re-inforce- 
 ments, sweeping two of them to the floor. In 
 another minute, all of them had been overpowered, 
 handcuffed and bound. 
 
 Crane had said that there were to be four 
 villains in the cast. He had forgotten the fifth — 
 John Carding. 
 
 When a man feels his condition to be helpless 
 and hopeless, nearly as bad as it can be, he takes it 
 rather coolly. As Crane lay stretched on the floor, 
 and listened to the talk which was going on above 
 him, he felt very much as though he were an 
 outsider, as though the situation concerned him not 
 at all. 
 
 John Carding appeared to be the hero of the 
 hour. They were congratulating him on the rescue, 
 and were asking him how he had planned it. 
 
 "I saw your first signal beneath the palm- 
 trees,*' the president explained, "and I knew then 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 245 
 
 that help was coming. In fact, I never felt any 
 concern after that time." Then he broke off to 
 exclaim "Oh, my poor tiger !'* The bronze statuette 
 lay on the floor, minus two legs and a tail. It 
 appeared to have been the chief sufferer in the 
 fight. 
 
 "I knew this fellow. Crane, was up to some 
 mischief," said Carding. "Yesterday, I tracked 
 him to the other side of the island. He dodged 
 back to Honolulu, and that told me that he meant 
 some trick. But I never imagined he would 
 carry it this far. 
 
 "I learned at the Cosmos Club, to-day, that you 
 had started for Pearl City. I telephoned there, and 
 they told me that you had not arrived. Then I 
 started out to hunt for you at your homes. As 
 soon as I got here, and climbed the wall, and 
 caught a glimpse of the Japanese, I saw what had 
 happened. So I hurried to the plantation, and 
 got together a bunch of twenty Koreans. You 
 know how a Korean hates a Jap. I hurried here, 
 and you know the rest." 
 
 While they had been talking, the sun had set. 
 Now the short tropical twilight was fading. Already 
 it was dark beneath the trees. 
 
 "What shall we do with these things?" and 
 Carding kicked a prostrate Jap. 
 
 "Put them in the garage, with a guard of 
 Koreans, for the night," answered the president. 
 "We'll have our suppers and a good night's rest, 
 and deal with them to-morrow." 
 
 Meanwhile the manager was bestowing sundry 
 
246 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 kicks and thumps upon the unhappy Wanto, 
 snarling as he did so, 
 
 "I'll show you how much of a white rabbit I 
 am, before I'm through with you. You'll decide 
 that a wolf-hound is gentle in comparison." 
 
 "How about this fellow?" and Carding indicated 
 Crane. 
 
 The manager transferred his attentions to the 
 Californian. 
 
 "How comes it he isn't handcuffed?" he inquired. 
 
 "We had only fifteen pairs." 
 
 "Well, put a couple of extra turns of rope 
 around him." 
 
 "And then throw him under the trees," the 
 president added. "We'll keep him apart from his 
 helpers." 
 
 These directions were carried out. They took 
 a final look at Crane as he lay beneath the palms. 
 
 "So, you poor, paltry, pitiful, little fool, you 
 imagined you could cope with us! So, this is 
 where all your plans and plots have brought you! 
 Here you lie, trussed like a fowl for the roasting. 
 Well, I hope you pass a pleasant night," and with 
 a good-night kick they left him. 
 
 Above him the tall trunks swayed; their plumy 
 foliage was waving in the slow night wind. The 
 sky was half covered with clouds. Up in the hills 
 it was raining, and the edge of the shower had 
 drifted down into the valley. Now the rain was 
 pattering on the palm trees, and dripping on the 
 ground where Crane was lying. Little pools and 
 ponds began to form. 
 
THE HOME OF THE SUGAR-PLANTER 247 
 
 His body and limbs were cramped by the cords; 
 his blood could circulate but slowly. In spite of 
 the tropical climate, a chill from the wind and 
 rain was penetrating to his bones. And close at 
 hand, within the mansion, were his most vindictive 
 enemies, made rancorous by the treatment they 
 had received during the last two days, and backed 
 by Carding and his band of Koreans. 
 
XIX 
 
 AN ESCAPE 
 
 THERE is a knack by which a man may free 
 himself from any ordinary rope-tieing, and 
 Crane had learned the knack. Next morning 
 he was missing. 
 
 The news was brought to the president and his 
 party while they were at the breakfast-table. The 
 Koreans also brought the cords with which Crane 
 had been bound, and with them a leaf torn from a 
 note-book. Two words were scribbled on the 
 paper, — "Good bye.** 
 
 This message was handed through the railing 
 of the verandah, for breakfast was being served 
 in the open air. The president took the paper with 
 the tips of his fingers, while he lifted a pair of 
 platinum-rimmed eye-glasses from his vest-pocket. 
 He caught the words at a glance, and passed the 
 paper to Atten. 
 
 "Facetious, isn't he?" commented the president. 
 
 "You seem to take it very coolly," answered 
 Atten. He himself was fairly boiling with rage, 
 and he had reason. In a standing position, he 
 was eating his breakfast from a side-board. 
 
 "Oh, we'll get him. Did you ever hear of an 
 escaped criminal who managed to elude capture 
 in this island?" 
 
 "No; they get them in no time." 
 
AN ESCAPE 249 
 
 "Precisely; and it is because the city is on an 
 island, and a small island at that. He can't escape 
 us, and you know it, if you'll stop to think." 
 
 "Then I move that we resolve ourselves into a 
 committee of the whole, and decide how to conduct 
 the hunt," said Frank Atten. 
 
 "Good!" and the president requested, "Gentle- 
 men, I'd like to get your opinions as to where 
 he is; the most likely direction in which to look 
 for him, I mean?" 
 
 There were as many opinions as there were 
 men present. 
 
 "Why, he and captain Coburn are a congenial 
 pair. I'll bet he's at the bungalow." 
 
 "Coburn isn't his only friend. He may have 
 applied to Sherrill to conceal him." 
 
 "I don't know. He's been posing as a tourist. 
 There was an inter-island steamer scheduled to 
 leave for Hilo last night. He may have gone there." 
 
 The manager thought Crane "might be lying 
 low on some plantation. Better call up all the 
 plantations and ask whether a stranger, answering 
 Crane's description had arrived." 
 
 The president gave courteous attention to all 
 of these suggestions, but there was a twinkle in 
 his eye. Then he asked, 
 
 "Now tell me the last place where he's likely 
 to be." 
 
 "Why, that's easy; at his hotel." 
 
 Everyone endorsed this opinion. It was unani- 
 mous. 
 
 "Precisely. Now, Mr. Crane appears to be a 
 fairly astute young man. He has asked himself 
 
250 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the question, Where will they least expect to find 
 me? He has answered that question as you 
 answered it, and has gone direct to his hotel. The 
 chances are ten to one he is there right now." 
 
 "Well, that's easily settled," and Carding went 
 to the telephone. 
 
 "Hello," he called. "I want to inquire whether 
 one of your guests is in the hotel now; a Mr. 
 Kenneth Crane." 
 
 "Yes, he's here. At least, I saw him go into 
 the dining-rom. Shall I send for him?" 
 
 "Oh, never mind. I'll come down to the hotel. 
 I can't settle this business over the telephone," 
 and he turned to the president. 
 
 "You're right. You win. He's there." 
 
 The president's manner became philosophical as 
 he answered, 
 
 "Now, that illustrates the character of the man. 
 He is astute up to a certain point, but his astute- 
 ness never carries him quite far enough. If the 
 distance from wharf to boat is ten feet, he jumps 
 nine of those feet very well, but he lands in the 
 water." 
 
 "Well, we know now where he is," said Deane. 
 "I suppose the next thing to do its to call up 
 the police." 
 
 "And have the whole of this affair aired in 
 court?" asked the president, and he turned to 
 Atten. "Frank, do you want to see the papers 
 printing cartoons, showing you over a barrel." 
 
 The attorney was positive that he did not want 
 to see the papers printing cartoons, showing him 
 over a barrel. 
 
AN ESCAPE 251 
 
 "Of course you don't," the president continued. 
 **That fellow made monkeys of us yesterday, and 
 there's at least one paper would enjoy airing our 
 misadventures. We're not too popular in Honolulu. 
 I move that we settle this matter ourselves." 
 
 Atten had his doubts, now. 
 
 "In other words, you want us to take the law 
 into our own hands," he said. "That might lead 
 to serious complications.* 
 
 "Complications with what,^-or with whom?" 
 
 "Why, with the courts. Courts are jealous of 
 their prerogatives." 
 
 "So they are, but they'll think twice before they 
 interfere with us." 
 
 "I don't know. A minute ago you admitted 
 that we are not too popular in Honolulu." 
 
 "Very true. But it would set a dangerous legal 
 precedent if the directors of a big sugar company 
 were harried." 
 
 This was true. The Hawaiian Islands are 
 essentially an agricultural community. All the 
 interests of the territory are bound up in the 
 prosperity of the plantations. No district attorney 
 would want to make trouble for the officers of a 
 large estate, unless the case was a very clear one. 
 
 This thought ran through Atten's mind, as he 
 answered, 
 
 "Oh, the courts would be bound to give us the 
 benefit of any doubt. The question is, just how 
 far can we go?" 
 
 "I think we can go as far as we please. If we 
 had taken the initiative, the case would be alto- 
 gether different. But our opponents have taken 
 
252 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the initiative. It is as though you defended your- 
 self against a man who attacked you, Mr. Atten. 
 Suppose you kill him in self-defense, is that 
 murder?" 
 
 "Of course not." 
 
 "And haven't these parties attacked us. What 
 they did was a clear case of kidnapping". 
 
 "It was a clear case, but not an aggravated case.'* 
 
 "Nevertheless, it put them clearly in the wrong. 
 How can Crane and his helpers appeal to a court 
 for protection, after they themselves have taken 
 the law into their own hands. As well might a 
 band of thieves appeal to a court for protection 
 against the clubs of the police. They have out- 
 lawed themselves." 
 
 The manager struck the breakfast-table an 
 emphatic blow with his fist as he endorsed the 
 president's opinion. "Crane and his helpers have 
 outlawed themselves." 
 
 In any other circumstances Atten would have 
 insisted on debating the point, for he was a little 
 jealous of his standing as the corporation's 
 attorney. To be beaten by the president in a 
 legal argument, he felt to be humiliating. But 
 when a fresh twinge reminded him of his 
 experience the day before, he promptly bottled up 
 his legal doubts and joined the majority in their 
 campaign of "expedient ruthlessness." 
 
 "Our president is always right," he said. "Crane 
 is an outlaw, and we'll treat him as such. But, 
 just at present he isn't available." 
 
 "Oh, we'll get him," answered the manager. 
 "But the Japanese are 'available,' as you put it. 
 
AN ESCAPE 253 
 
 Let's arm the Koreans with clubs and try the 
 effect of a little corporeal punishment on them. 
 Hammer the Japs to a jelly." 
 
 His manner showed that he was perfectly 
 serious in his proposal. After a man has spent 
 years in the exercise of arbitrary authority over 
 gangs of oriental laborers, he may grow to regard 
 his men with less consideration than he would a 
 herd of work-animals. Or he may develop an 
 honest interest in their welfare. The manager of 
 the X plantation belonged to the former class. 
 But his suggestion harmonized with the spirit 
 of the meeting, for the spirit of the meeting was 
 distinctly vindictive — although Atten didn't want 
 to see the men murdered. 
 
 "Your methods are too strenuous," he objected. 
 You know how a Korean loves a Jap. Before the 
 Koreans were through, the Japs would be ready for 
 the coroner. We'll keep those fellows and play 
 with them as cats play with mice. We can make 
 each of them die a hundred deaths." 
 
 It seemed doubtful whether his objection would 
 help the Japanese any, even were it meant to — as 
 the next speech proved. 
 
 "Good enough," the manager agreed. "After 
 breakfast we'll chain the Japanese to palm-trees, 
 line up before them with our automatics, and tell 
 them they are to be shot. We'll aim just over 
 their heads. When a Jap hears a report and 
 senses the bark flying from the trunk, two inches 
 from his hair, he will undergo all the nervous 
 strain of a man who is being shot to death, and 
 yet will remain to suffer again." 
 
254 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Deane's complexion turned sickly and sallow, 
 like that of a man about to be overcome by sea- 
 sickness. 
 
 "I think I shall prefer to be excused from such 
 play," he said. "I'm afraid I'd make a very 
 poor cat." 
 
 The president objected on different grounds. 
 
 "I endorse your cat-and-mouse idea," he said. 
 "That's splendid. But can't you arrange to carry 
 it out without injuring my palm-trees?" 
 
 "My suggestion was a hasty one," the manager 
 explained. "Anyway, the trees are too near the 
 road. The shooting would attract attention, and 
 our sport would bring us into undesirable 
 notoriety. But we might drive staples into the 
 sides of the garage, and tie the Japs there. The 
 machines could be removed." 
 
 "And my garage turned into a sieve," objected 
 the president. 
 "Well, we'll hear you make a suggestion." 
 
 "Why not put ropes around their necks and give 
 them a taste of hanging; alternately raise and 
 lower them. We could carry the ropes over a 
 long horizontal beam. Why, there's one in my 
 son's gymnasium. Such a method would make no 
 noise, damage no property, and cause no incon- 
 venience to anyone except the Japanese. And 
 it certainly would inconvenience them, — very much 
 more than the popping of fire-arms, and the 
 whizzing of bullets which 'never touched them'." 
 
 "Good enough," said the manager. "This 
 promises to be better sport than shark-hunting 
 and tuna-fishing in the lochs of Pearl Harbor." 
 
AN ESCAPE 255 
 
 "Oh, we can have plenty of sport," said Atten. 
 "But when that part of the program is finished, 
 what then?* 
 
 "Why, then the sport becomes dead earnest," 
 answered the manager, with emphasis on the 
 "dead." 
 
 Atten's legal training was strong within him. 
 His soul revolted at the idea. 
 
 "This is getting too serious," he said. Obviously 
 he needed "coaching" in Island methods. 
 
 "Now, see here, Mr. Atten," argued the presi- 
 dent, "a legal jury can condemn a man to death, 
 can't it?" 
 
 "Of course. That is, it can find him guilty." 
 
 "And a legal jury is just twelve men. And is 
 not the decision of those twelve men frequently 
 determined by the opinion of three or four out of 
 the twelve.?" 
 
 "It frequently is." 
 
 "And aren't we just as fit to make up a 
 responsible court as any judge, district attorney, 
 and set of jurymen likely to be gotten together in 
 this island? Remember some of the men who 
 have been nominated for the office of judge. Why, 
 many of our voters are barely able to read and 
 write. If there were no men like us, to see that 
 responsible men are elected as judges and district 
 attorneys, the Lord only knows who might be 
 chosen." 
 
 "Just the same, our judges compare very 
 favorably with those on the mainland." 
 
 "Precisely, and it is for the reason I gave a 
 minute ago We, and other men of property, put 
 
256 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 our influence behind the more responsible candi- 
 dates. And that brings me to the point of my 
 argument. If it is we who decide who shall be 
 elected as judges and district attorneys; if we 
 govern the deliberations of juries; are we doing 
 anything unreasonable in trying a case ourselves?" 
 
 "No, in a sense we are not. But wouldn't it be 
 going rather far, if we condemned men to death?" 
 
 "But judges and juries condemn them to death. 
 And we have decided that judges and juries are 
 made of no better stuff than ourselves." 
 
 "True." 
 
 "We create the judges and govern the juries. 
 Then, in the name of common sense, why not go 
 direct to the point? why waste time in cranking 
 up the cumbrous machinery of the law?" 
 
 "That's right." 
 
 "If we were actuated by motives of malice, 
 robbery or revenge, the case would be altogether 
 different. But we are not actuated by any such 
 motives. All we want is to see a set of pests 
 swept off the face of the earth. Why, a few 
 minutes ago, you admitted that these men were 
 outlaws. What is the use of starting the whole 
 argument over again? If they are outlaws, their 
 lives may be taken by any citizen." 
 
 Atten started to say that the men "had not 
 been declared outlaws by the courts," but he was 
 interrupted by the president: — 
 
 "Why, man, you talk as if you were still in 
 your native California! Have you lived ten years 
 in Hawaii and not yet learned our ways? When 
 we believe that using a club is the best way to 
 
AN ESCAPE 257 
 
 get results, we use the club. Why, I can remember 
 the day — I was a boy at the time — when a mob 
 charged up the stairs to the legislative chamber 
 and smashed in the doors, with axes, because the 
 new king whom the legislature had elected, wasn't 
 the choice of the people. It's true they let him 
 ascend the throne, but I can remember the upris- 
 ing of '87 when we had him penned in his palace 
 until he came to terms; and the revolution of '93, 
 when we drove out royalty and established a 
 republic; and the insurrection of '95, when from 
 the roof of the Judiciary Building we shot the 
 insurrectos down like dogs — yes, shot them from 
 the roof of the Judiciary Building itself, sir. That's 
 the sort of a country this is! There's something 
 volcanic in its atmosphere.' 
 
 "That's the tune," the manager applauded. "This 
 is a place where we settle our quarrels ourselves," 
 and he thought, "Our president's all right. When 
 he quits his philosophy for fire, he can furnish the 
 fire." 
 
 Atten was silenced. He did not want to "start 
 the whole argument over again." He wanted an 
 excuse to dispose of the prisoners, and the 
 president's argument impressed him as perfectly 
 sound. 
 
 "All right," he said. "It was only my legal 
 training, getting the better of me, that made me 
 talk as I did. We'll settle this case ourselves. But 
 let me suggest that while we are talking here, 
 planning our cat-and-mouse campaign, our friend 
 Crane may be making his escape. Isn't it more 
 important to get hold of him?" 
 
258 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 "That's the idea," agreed the manager. "Just 
 let us get our hands on him! We've got to get 
 him. Think of it! All last night, while we thought 
 he was lying on the wet ground, drenched by the 
 drip from the trees, he was luxuriating in a good 
 bed in the hotel, and laughing at us for a bunch 
 of nanny-goats." 
 
 "I think it can be managed quite easily/* 
 answered the president, "and I think we had 
 better let Mr. Carding manage it. Mr. Carding, 
 suppose you take some of your men to the hotel 
 and get hold of that fellow somehow. I think 
 that, once you are on the ground, a method will 
 suggest itself, — a method which you can manage 
 quietly." 
 
 "Yes, sir," and Carding swelled with importance. 
 He gathered his men, hurried from the grounds, 
 and boarded an electric car for Hotel street. 
 
 As he sat in the car, he wondered within himself 
 what would be the actual fate of the prisoners. 
 
 "The manager would like to shoot every one 
 o^ them," he thought, "but I don't believe we'll 
 go that far. The old man is pretty conservative; 
 half of what he gave Frank Atten was only for the 
 sake of argument. They'll probably ship the Japs 
 out of the country. But, as for Crane — I don't 
 know." 
 
 In a few minutes the car was in front of the 
 hotel. Carding entered the lobby. There followed 
 a confidential interview with one of the bell-boys. 
 
 "He went out half an hour ago," that young 
 man reported. "But Jimmy followed him. And 
 here comes Jimmy right now." 
 
AN ESCAPE 259 
 
 James entered — breathlessly. 
 
 "He went up the valley, Mr. Carding. He took 
 a tram-car to the end of the line, and then he 
 hiked up the road toward the Pali. I came right 
 back on the same car.'* 
 
 "Thank you, Jimmy," and Carding made a 
 donation. He hurried back to Manoa valley, for 
 a brilliant idea had come to him. But, instead of 
 going directly to the president's house, he made 
 a detour to his own home on Fort street. There 
 he secured a small, paper parcel. After placing it 
 carefully in one of his side-pockets, he hurried to 
 make his report. 
 
 "He has left the hotel and has hiked up the 
 road to the Pali; but I know a way to get him. 
 We'll use the wolf-hounds. And here's the article 
 which will give them the scent. It's a handker- 
 chief which he lost one day — the day I followed 
 him to the other side of the island. I have 
 preserved it for such an emergency, and here it 
 is." Carding produced the paper package. 
 
 "That was very thoughtful of you, Mr. Carding," 
 the president commented. "But you have had 
 that handkerchief in your possession for some days 
 now. I am afraid it would suggest to the dogs 
 nobody but yourself." 
 
 A guffaw of laughter from the manager, endorsed 
 the president's opinion. 
 
 Carding had a different notion. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," he answered. "I think he 
 had a cold. And I've kept the handkerchief 
 carefully wrapped in oiled paper." 
 
 "Very thoughtful. Very thoughtful," replied 
 
260 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the president. "But I believe the bed-clothes will 
 serve our purpose better." 
 
 "That's the plan," agreed the manager. "But 
 have the dogs been trained as trackers? The only 
 wolf-hounds I ever had dealings with, were utterly 
 worthless for work of that sort." 
 
 "They have been trained," answered the 
 president. "Those dogs once belonged to the high 
 sheriff. We'll use them, and we'll show them the 
 bed-clothes. Even if that fellow hadn't slept here, 
 we could take the dogs to the hotel and let them 
 get the scent from the bed he occupied last night. 
 I don't believe we'll need that handkerchief, Mr. 
 Carding." 
 
 The president called up the keeper of the dogs, 
 and ordered him to bring the animals at once. 
 They came within an hour, when they were led 
 to the bed which Crane had occupied. From the 
 bed they were taken to the tree where he had 
 been tied. Both dogs gave every evidence of 
 having taken the scent. They snuffed and whined 
 and were eager to follow Crane's trail down the 
 road toward the hotel. 
 
 Carding and the manager were provided with 
 horses. Each man strapped a murderous automatic 
 about his waist. At ten o'clock they set off for 
 the Pali road. The keeper of the dogs, leading 
 the ferocious brutes, followed close behind. The 
 column was closed with a dozen Koreans, each 
 armed with a cane-knife. 
 
 The day promised to be propitious for the hunt. 
 There was no sign of a cloud. The great white 
 roll which ordinarily overhung the hills, had 
 
AN ESCAPE 261 
 
 disappeared completely. The lustrous green of 
 the summits stood out sharply against a sky 
 which was intensely blu£. 
 
 At the end of the car-line, the dogs picked up 
 the scent. Away they went, as fast as the men 
 could walk, leading the way steadily toward the 
 Pali. At a point where a narrow foot-path diverged 
 from the road they left the road for the path. The 
 manager remembered it as a short-cut that saved 
 half a mile. 
 
 "That fellow seems to know something about 
 this island," he commented. 
 
 Presently they had traversed the path and were 
 following the main road once more. A gigantic 
 sight-seeing auto, loaded with tourists, rumbled 
 past them, the passengers looking curiously at 
 the party. The savage dogs in the lead, straining 
 at their leashes, together with the armed men on 
 horseback and the Koreans with their cane-knives, 
 combined to give a warlike tone to the expedition. 
 The megaphone man, though totally unacquainted 
 with the manager and ignorant of his purpose, 
 made an announcement: 
 
 "The high sheriff of Hawaii and posse, pursuing 
 escaped criminals." 
 
 The machine was rolling away in a cloud of 
 dust, but the manager caught the words. 
 
 "It's a wonder he didn't try to make them 
 believe I'm Simon Legree," he growled. "I tell 
 you. Carding, these 'publicity' people are turning 
 this island into a Midway Plaisance. Everything 
 in the island is a show, you and I included." 
 
 Up the road they went. Then down the grade 
 
262 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 to where a track branched off to the southeast. 
 Without the slightest hesitation, the dogs turned 
 into the side road. 
 
 "That tells the story," exulted the manager. "He 
 is bound for the W plantation. I told you he*d 
 make a break for some sugar plantation. We'll 
 find him trying to hide himself there." 
 
 Carding was doubtful. "I don't know. I've 
 tried to track that fellow before. He may keep 
 on, past the plantation, until he reaches the light- 
 house road. Then he can come around the hills 
 and double back into Honolulu. He may have 
 lured us over here to lose us, while he returns to 
 Honolulu to play some more of his tricks." 
 
 "All right. I tell you what we'll do. You keep 
 right after him with the dogs and half of the 
 men. I'll take the rest. I'll go back to Honolulu. 
 I'll follow the road to the southeast, along the 
 leeward side of the hills. Then, if he tries to 
 double back, I'll meet him." 
 
 The manager promptly reined his horse around. 
 He selected half a dozen Koreans and ordered 
 them to follow him. They turned to climb the 
 grade which they had descended only a few 
 minutes before. 
 
 With a wave of his hat. Carding parted from the 
 manager and urged his horse after the dogs. 
 
XX 
 
 A CAPTURE 
 
 DRESSED in cool "Palm Beach cloth," Crane 
 stood on the verge of the cliff, where the 
 mountains broke off and plunged to the plain 
 below as though sliced down by a gigantic knife. 
 For a minute he rested, looking down on a land- 
 scape dyed with the vivid colors of the tropics. 
 Far below lay rolling lands of red earth, pineapple 
 plantations and small villages, stretching out to the 
 distant shore with its coral reefs and dark blue 
 ocean. Above him were jagged volcanic peaks, 
 clothed in the brightest tangle of tropical jungle. 
 Glancing at everything, he closed and replaced 
 the canteen that swung from his left shoulder, 
 and started down the road to the lowlands. 
 
 As the manager had guessed. Crane was on his 
 way to the W plantation, for he had conceived 
 the idea of throwing himself upon the hospitality 
 of its superintendent. He remembered the man's 
 good nature. He remembered his treatment of the 
 plantation hands — "quarters rebuilt, using tongue- 
 and-groove instead of rough siding." He remem- 
 bered his friendship with lieutenant Sherrill, and 
 especially did he recall an invitation which had 
 been extended to himself: — "Come and visit us 
 again, when you have the time, Mr. Crane. Come 
 and stay a week and see something of plantation 
 
264 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 life." Now was the time to avail himself of that 
 invitation. 
 
 Once settled at the W plantation, Crane could 
 communicate with Sherrill by mail. He could 
 make plans at his leisure. There might be many 
 ways of extricating himself. 
 
 He had made a fairly early start, and he needed 
 it, for he should have to walk nearly twenty miles. 
 
 "No automobiles for me, this trip," he thought. 
 "I don't intend to have them get hold of the 
 chauffeur and find out from him where I've gone." 
 
 Setting his face resolutely up the road to the 
 Pali, he topped the long ascent after an hour- 
 and-a-half of brisk walking, and trotted down the 
 grade to the windward side of the island. 
 
 But walking was warm work. Clouds were 
 scarce that day. The whole island was soaked in 
 sunshine. As Crane plodded over the range of 
 little hills which must be crossed before he caught 
 sight of the W plantation, he recalled the day 
 when he had ridden over them, in a motor-car. 
 How delightful that journey had been! 
 . He remembered a glimpse he had caught from 
 the machine, of a picturesque trail coming 
 from a coffee-plantation. He must be at nearly 
 the same place now, and he cast a quick glance to 
 the right. Yes, there it was, cut in the cliffs where 
 they sloped outward to join the lowland. The side 
 of the trail made a deep red scar against the cliff. 
 It was shaded with tall ferns. And along that 
 track came a line of mules, loaded with sacks of 
 coffee. He noted two Hawaiian muleteers, pictur- 
 esque rascals with broad-brimmed hats, who kept 
 
A CAPTURE 265 
 
 the animals in motion. But now he had scant 
 leisure to study such pictures. Although he was in 
 good physical condition, he must keep his mind 
 resolutely on the work of "getting ahead." 
 
 Plodding steadily on, he came to the gap in 
 the hills affording a first glimpse of the W plan- 
 tation. Below, in the foreground, lay the 
 lustrous fields of growing cane. Beyond them rose 
 the tall black stacks of mill and pumping-station. 
 Miles away he saw a white drift of smoke, curling 
 Up in the blue air and blowing toward the moun- 
 tains. He knew the smoke must mark the place 
 where they were burning off the "trash" which 
 strews a cane-field after the cutting. 
 
 But there was no time to contemplate the land- 
 scape. And while Crane did not know himself to 
 be pursued, he was very restless. The only way 
 in which he could ease that restlessness was by 
 constant motion. He broke into a jog-trot as he 
 came down the grade. 
 
 Forty minutes later he was at the office and 
 was asking for the manager. But the manager had 
 gone to the lower end of the plantation, to 
 superintend the commencement of work in harvest- 
 ing a cane-field. The accountant who was in 
 charge of the office^ and who remembered Crane, 
 pointed out the field. It was at least three miles 
 away. The man offered the hospitality of a deep 
 wicker chair, and suggested that Crane wait. 
 
 No; Crane's restlessness urged him on. In spite 
 of his long tramp, he was not tired. He would 
 find the manager. Squaring his shoulders, he 
 stepped briskly down the road. 
 
266 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 The time was afternoon. The temperature had 
 risen, and Crane mopped the perspiration from his 
 face. Well, he was on the plantation now, and 
 could afford to relax his hurry. 
 
 The road led him past a long stretch of fields 
 where the crop had been gathered. In some of 
 those fields the "trash" was burning. Others had 
 already been burned over, and lay a blackened 
 waste, ready for the plowing and planting. Through 
 the fields a very light line of portable track had 
 been laid, to cary the little engine and train of 
 flat-cars employed to transport the crop from field 
 to mill. 
 
 Beyond the blackened waste lay other fields, 
 where young cane was growing. The sultry sunlight 
 fairly glared on their light lustrous green. And 
 beyond them rose the amazing, vertical front which 
 the mountains opposed to the trade-wind, where 
 the face of the cliff was covered with a green veil 
 of vegetation, and the channels which the rains 
 had carved, showed like a gigantic fluting. Crane 
 speculated on the possibility of climbing the cliff. 
 Apparently the idea was preposterous. Yet he 
 knew that such a place, when seen from the front, 
 always seems much steeper than it is. He remem- 
 bered that places which seemed absolutely unscal- 
 able, had been pointed out to him as containing 
 native trails. But he remembered also that 
 the natives who ventured down those trails, 
 sometimes lost their lives in the venture. 
 
 Now Crane was approaching a high stand of 
 growing cane. He saw that it was ripe and ready 
 for the harvest. Behind him he heard the steam- 
 
A CAPTURE 267 
 
 whistle at the mill booming out a signal, and he 
 recognized that signal as the one by which the 
 laborers were warned that a train was ready to 
 transport them to the fields. And still he saw no 
 sign of the manager. 
 
 But, as Crane stopped, and stood turning from 
 side to side, to look for him, he saw a sight and 
 heard a sound which galvanized him into instant 
 activity. The wolf-hounds were coming down the 
 road, half dragging their keeper, and uttering 
 a terriffic bay. Crane saw Carding on horseback, 
 with the Koreans at his heels. 
 
 "There's just one chance left for me," he thought, 
 and he dashed toward the cane-field. He had less 
 than fifty yards to run. He plunged between its 
 rows. 
 
 A cane-field is an excellent hiding-place. It 
 constitutes a maze where, in cloudy weather, the 
 most experienced man may lose himself if unpro- 
 vided with a compass. There was no danger of 
 Crane's being unable to find his way out, if he 
 wished, for the sun was shining, and he could 
 guide himself by it. But he was lost to anyone 
 who might try to track him. 
 
 And then came a second thought. What if they 
 should loose the dogs? The dogs could find him. 
 At any moment he might see the immense, square 
 muzzle and ferocious fangs of one of the savage 
 brutes thrust between the canes. Instantly he 
 began to hear them coming in every rustle made by 
 the breeze. Strange sounds startled him from 
 moment to moment, as he burst his way through 
 the tangle. 
 
268 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Had the dogs been sent after him, this story 
 would end right here, for Crane was totally 
 unarmed. And had the manager of the X plan- 
 tation been there, they would have been sent after 
 him. But Carding had no intention of using them 
 otherwise than as trackers. 
 
 Crane struggled to put as much distance as 
 possible between himself and pursuit. To do so, 
 he kept on toward the hills, guiding himself by 
 the sun and an occasional glimpse of the top of 
 the great cliff. And fortunately the rows of cane 
 ran in that direction. 
 
 All around him the great, thick canes, heavy with 
 juice, lay with half their length on the ground. 
 Then they curved upward for ten feet, to weave 
 their long leaves together into a snarl of green. 
 In the twilight of their dense shade, Crane pressed 
 forward, crouching, bending and twisting. Where 
 he was, no breath of air was stirring, but over- 
 head he heard the trade-wind whispering through 
 the highest leaves, tossing them back and forth. 
 And then he heard a very different sound. 
 
 That sound was not the baying of dogs. It was 
 the crackling and roaring of fire. 
 
 Crane had heard the scream of the locomotive 
 bringing the train-load of cane-cutters. Now he 
 recalled that, when a field of sugar-cane is ripe, 
 and ready for the harvest it is fired on its wind- 
 ward side. The flames, sweeping through it, bum 
 off the leaves, while the heavy stalks remain 
 unharmed. It is true that this method is followed 
 only on the more progressive plantations. On 
 many estates the cane is cut just as it stands, and 
 
A CAPTURE 269 
 
 is run through the rollers, with leaves, trash, and 
 all. The resulting juice is partly saccharine and 
 partly bug juice in the most literal sense. But on 
 the W plantation they were very progressive. 
 Under the manager's personal supervision, the 
 field was being fired at many points. 
 
 As he glanced over his shoulder. Crane caught 
 glimpses of great clouds of acrid smoke, which 
 presently began to sail between him and the sun. 
 He even caught the crimson flash of flames, which 
 glowed an intense and rosy red even under the 
 full glare of the tropical day. Should they reach 
 him, there would be no question as to his fate. 
 
 Crane pushed forward desperately, in the hope of 
 escaping from the field before the flames overtook 
 him. Presently he began to realize that he was 
 near the mountains. 
 
 The field was only a short half-mile in width, 
 for the plain where this plantation stood, narrowed 
 as it approached the south-eastern end of the 
 island. Suddenly the cane thinned. Before him 
 the gigantic rampart of the mountains rose, two 
 thousand feet above the plain. Scattered rows of 
 cane ascended the low slopes at the foot of the cliff. 
 Crane came out into the open air? 
 
 But was he any better off? There he stood 
 between cliff and cane-field. There was no danger, 
 now, of his being roasted. He could avoid that. 
 But immense billows of smoke were surging 
 towards him. And suffocation by smoke is a no 
 less certain, and on the whole a rather more 
 painful, because more lingering, death than burning. 
 Crane thought of the dogs; then of the fire; then 
 
270 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 of the smoke. The sound of the fire was roaring 
 in his ears, the billows of smoke were surging 
 toward him, the inaccessible front of the cliff 
 before him. Whichever way he turned, it seemed 
 as though he were lost. 
 
 A rattling of rocks caught his attention. A goat, 
 followed by two young kids, had rushed from the 
 field, and was scrambling up the cliff. Crane 
 watched it. Somehow the cliff did not seem nearly 
 so steep as it looked from a distance. It is 
 true that to right and left there were places which 
 were absolutely vertical for hundreds of feet. But 
 everywhere the rains had furrowed its front. Some 
 of the channels showed a pronounced slope. As 
 he watched the goat, he saw it was ascending 
 such a channel. It was following a shadowy but 
 definite trail. 
 
 Crane did not wait for second thoughts. After 
 the goats he went. He doubted whether he could 
 have come down that trail. But the ascent was not 
 so difficult, especially as the cliff held hundreds 
 of trailing vines. He climbed with both hands 
 and feet. As a matter of fact, he had emerged 
 from the field almost at the foot of an old native 
 trail, by which the Hawaiians once had been 
 accustomed to cross the mountains. 
 
 Higher and higher he climbed, for puffs of 
 smoke began to eddy around him. They spurred 
 him on. But at this height the smoke was not 
 dense enough to be dangerous. Presently he 
 stopped for a breathing-spell. While he rested, he 
 reflected. Suppose the trail led to the top? Might 
 it not be possible to cross the hills and return to 
 
A CAPTURE 271 
 
 Honolulu? There he might be able to conceal 
 himself and make new plans. 
 
 The thought gave him a new impulse. Scramb- 
 ling and climbing, up he went. The air was humid 
 and hot. His perspiration flowed in rivulets. 
 Frequent breathing-spells were necessary. He was 
 delayed by a few break-neck places, but he passed 
 them safely. Eventually he climbed upon a rocky 
 platform which lay on the very top. 
 
 There he rested. He felt like resting. He also 
 felt like eating, and he drew a supply of sand- 
 wiches from his pockets. He congratulated him- 
 self on having had the sense to bring them. 
 He washed each mouthful down with a draught 
 of tepid water from his canteen. 
 
 Crane had escaped. He had saved his life, but 
 what a sight he was! His light suit was streaked 
 brown and green from collar to heels, the coat 
 half torn to tatters. But if he were able to return 
 to his hotel, that night, he could secure fresh 
 clothing. On second thought, should he have left 
 the hotel? Out in these remote districts, if his 
 enemies caught him they would do what they 
 pleased with him. In Honolulu there were limita- 
 tions, even if he had made himself amenable to 
 the law. Yes, decidedly the best plan would be to 
 make his way quietly back to the hotel. 
 
 As he rested, he studied the leeward slope, which 
 he would have to descend. It reminded him of 
 what Sherrill had said of the violent contrasts 
 afforded by districts separated by a very few miles. 
 He knew that, only a few miles away, the slopes 
 were matted with the densest tangle of trees and 
 
272 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 underbrush. But here they lay bare. The hills 
 showed as piles of rock-layers. Not Diamond 
 Head itself was as bare as these slopes. When he 
 should be ready to descend, there would be no 
 impediment to his progress. The way would be 
 as clear of obstruction as a city pavement. 
 
 On the margin of the sea, directly before him 
 as he looked, the great Koko crater loomed, bare 
 and brown, rising twelve hundred feet above the 
 water. Miles away to the right, he saw the huge 
 circle of Diamond Head. Midway between those 
 craters, the deep green of a grove of cocoa-palms 
 rose from the shore. As Crane watched it, he 
 could see the tops of the trees tossing in the trade- 
 wind, and above the trees he caught the glint of 
 what looked like a sea-gull's wing. The object 
 vanished and reappeared, vanished and reappeared. 
 Then he realised that it must be an aeroplane. 
 Someone was putting the machine through its 
 paces above the seashore. 
 
 "One of the staff-officers, I suppose," Crane 
 thought, and wondered whether it were lieutenant 
 Sherrill. 
 
 When ready, he walked down the trail at a very 
 leisurely pace. He knew that the road to Honolulu 
 followed the foot of the hills, and he planned to 
 return to Honolulu after dark. 
 
 He reached the road and turned toward the city, 
 ten miles away. His long tramp and tremendous 
 climb had tired him. He was undeniably weary 
 and a little footsore. He lingered and looked back 
 for a moment to wave his hat and say. 
 
A CAPTURE 273 
 
 **Well, Carding, old man, your man-hunt was a 
 failure." 
 
 He turned and started up the road to Honolulu. 
 Then he saw the manager of the X plantation. 
 
 The manager sat on horseback, a hundred yards 
 away. He was followed by six Koreans. All were 
 looking at Crane. 
 
 But Crane's motto was, "Never give up, until 
 you have to give up." 
 
 "I'll give them a run for their money, yet," he 
 thought, and he took to his heels. He dashed 
 down the road. With a shout, the manager and 
 his men came in pursuit. 
 
 It seemed as though Crane's tactics would 
 accomplish absolutely nothing except to delay his 
 capture by a few minutes. And then it seemed 
 as though those few minutes would be shortened. 
 Before him he saw a bunch of cattle-men on horse- 
 back, coming from a cattle-ranch which lay 
 in the immediate vicinity. They raised a shout. 
 Crane looked desperately to right and left. The 
 ground on both sides of the way was open. This 
 time there was no cane-field or grove of trees in 
 which to take refuge. Seemingly there was not a 
 chance for escape. 
 
 No help could come, unless it came from the 
 clouds. And it came!! 
 
 He heard the humming of an aeroplane, and then 
 he heard a megaphone voice behind him. 
 
 "Catch the cord! Catch the cord!" 
 
 He recognized the voice. He whirled on his 
 heel. The lieutenant was coming in his biplane. 
 The knotted cord dangled from the framework of 
 
274 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the driver's seat. Weighted with a wrench, it 
 swung fifty feet below the planes. 
 
 The picture which Crane saw, stamped itself 
 indelibly on his mind; the biplane swooping to 
 earth; beneath it the manager, red-faced and 
 raging, charging toward him on horseback; the 
 Koreans brandishing their knives ; the volcanic hills 
 behind and beyond as a background. 
 
 Crane did not stop to study the picture, nor to 
 argue as to why Sherrill should be there. Suffice 
 it that the lieutenant was out for a practice spin, 
 and might as well be in one place as another. 
 Never would he quarrel with Sherrill for happening 
 to fly over that particular spot. He only thought 
 of "catching the cord." 
 
 He had been an "eleven seconds" man when in 
 college, and a man running at the rate of one 
 hundred yards in eleven seconds, is making nearly 
 twenty miles an hour. The plane, with power 
 almost shut off, was going no faster than that. As 
 it swept toward him. Crane had no difficulty in 
 keeping pace with the cord. He grasped it at 
 his leisure. 
 
 With Crane hanging at the end of the rope, 
 gripping it tenaciously with both hands, the aero- 
 plane increased its speed and lifted. 
 
 "Here! Take this," and Sherrill lowered a long, 
 sausage-shaped affair of cords and silk. There 
 was a little ring of iron at one end, on which all 
 of the cords seemed to center. Hooking two fingers 
 over the ring. Crane held it and found that it did 
 not interfere with his grip on the rope. 
 
 The aeroplane swung a broad circle across the 
 
A CAPTURE 275 
 
 cattle-ranch, and swept back to the road, passing 
 a hundred yards above the heads of the manager 
 and his party. It seemed like adding insult to 
 injury. Apparently the manager thought so, too, 
 for he raised his automatic and emptied it in 
 Crane's direction. The action seemed like a piece 
 of childishness. Already the machine had passed 
 a hundred yards beyond him. And then the 
 impossible happened. 
 
 A chance bullet grazed one of Crane's fingers 
 and cut the cord. Sherrill uttered a horrified shout. 
 Crane fell like a flash. He saw the earth flying up 
 to meet him. 
 
 Of course, the narrow roll of cords and silk was 
 a parachute. Crane had guessed its nature. How- 
 ever, parachutes are unreliable. It seemed for a 
 moment as though this one would not open. Then 
 its silken folds fluttered apart, just in time. Crane 
 landed with nothing worse than a severe jolt. 
 
 The manager and his party were right there. 
 They welcomed Crane, if not with open arms, at 
 least with open handcuffs — handcuffs which were 
 instantly snapped on his wrists. 
 
 The aeroplane had whirled away toward 
 Diamond Head. There Crane stood in the road, 
 surrounded by grinning Koreans, while the 
 manager sat on horseback and wiped drops of 
 perspiration from his forehead. His expression 
 indicated that he thought he had lived through a 
 great deal during the last two minutes. His words 
 indicated that he thought that Crane had lived 
 through a great deal. 
 
 "That beats all my going to school," he said at 
 
276 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 last. "Young man, hasn't your hair turned gray? 
 You surely were born to be hanged, for nothing 
 else can phase you," and then he added, "Boys, 
 let's get a horse for this fellow," for Crane had 
 sunk to the ground, being tired probably. 
 
 The ranch-house belonging to the cattle-ranch, 
 was close by. There they hired a saddle-horse, 
 which Crane must mount for the return trip to 
 Manoa valley. The visit to the ranch-house 
 afforded him an opportunity to quench his thirst 
 with great draughts of cold water. He had not 
 realized how dry he was. 
 
 Between Diamond Head and the hills there was 
 a low ridge where a lava-flow once ran from hills 
 to sea. The party walked their horses up its long 
 southern face. At its top they were four miles 
 from Fort street, three miles from Manoa valley. 
 
 They pushed on without delay. They came to 
 Manoa valley just as the day was waning. 
 
 Like a broad, red target the sun hung above the 
 rim of the western horizon. With its light at 
 their backs, they turned into the valley road. As 
 they entered the grounds of the president's man- 
 sion, John Carding stood on the verandah to 
 receive them. 
 
 "Welcome, brother," he chortled, as he caught 
 sight of Crane. "You decided to return, did 
 you? You mean to enjoy our hospitality. We're 
 ready for you." 
 
 Attracted by his voice, the president and his 
 associates hurried to the verandah. Atten grinned 
 vindictively. 
 
 "Have you made your will?" he asked. "The 
 
A CAPTURE 277 
 
 rope is ready. Have you any preference as to 
 where we shall hang you? Would you like to 
 select the tree?" 
 
 "Hanging is the right word," the manager 
 agreed, "but we'll have some fun with him first. 
 Hanging would be nothing to him after the exper- 
 ience I saw him go through to-day." 
 
 "We gave him a few experiences, too, on our 
 side of the island," answered Carding. 
 
 "Then you saw him." 
 
 "We saw him, and we nearly had him, but he 
 heard the dogs and dodged into a cane-field." 
 
 "Why didn't you send the dogs after him?" 
 
 "Because the men were ready to fire the field. 
 They burned him out.'* 
 
 "Did you see his escape?" 
 
 "Not until he was halfway up the cliff; driven 
 up by the smoke, I suppose. Then I saw him 
 through a glass. He looked like a fly climbing a 
 wall." 
 
 "I see. He must have found the old trail. He 
 thought he could cross the hills and double back 
 into Honolulu. But I was ready for him." 
 
 "What sort of an experience did you give him?" 
 
 "He had his experience trying to escape in a 
 flying-machine." 
 
 "A flying-machine!" 
 
 "Yes. Just as we were ready to take him, a 
 biplane came charging out of the sky. The 
 driver lowered a rope. Crane grabbed it, and was 
 whirled up into the air. I thought he was gone, 
 and gave him a parting salute with my automatic. 
 
278 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Perhaps one of the bullets cut the cord. At any 
 rate, it broke and down he came." 
 
 "He fell from an aeroplane and still lives! How 
 high was that machine?" 
 
 "Three or four hundred feet. He had a para- 
 chute." 
 
 "He needed one. Too bad he didn't break his 
 neck." 
 
 "The parachute barely saved him. We found 
 him pretty badly shaken. Between that and the 
 rest of the day's work, he must have had a hair- 
 raising experience. He escaped from the dogs 
 to get into the fire, you say. He escaped from the 
 fire to be driven up the cliff by the smoke. He 
 nearly broke his neck climbing the cliff, and got 
 across the hills to be met by me. He escaped 
 from me for a minute by aeroplane, but fell from 
 the machine. He saved his life by means of a 
 parachute and fell right into my hands. That 
 ought to convince him that he can't escape us." 
 
 As the manager rehearsed this catalogue of 
 dangers, — dogs, fire, smoke, cliff-climbing, escape 
 by biplane and fall from mid-air, — it occurred to 
 Crane that the experience might be copyrighted 
 as material for a highly sensational motion-picture 
 drama. However, he was far from feeling that 
 he was at the end of his rope, even if the manager 
 did propose to hang him. But another man 
 remained to be reckoned with. 
 
 "Let me make a suggestion," Carding volun- 
 teered. 
 
 "Well, what is it? Hurry up." The manager 
 was impatient. 
 
A CAPTURE 279 
 
 "Do you remember the Death Chamber at the 
 palace?" 
 
 No, the manager never had heard of it. 
 
 "I know the place you mean," answered the 
 president. "But you don't want to behead him, do 
 you?" 
 
 "No ; but they have some of the finest implements 
 of torture there, ever found outside of a museum; 
 some rare old bone-twisters. Let's use them." 
 
 The president reflected for a moment. Then he 
 answered, "I believe it could be managed. But 
 we'll talk it over later. Lock him up with his 
 Japanese brothers for the present. We'll have our 
 dinner now, and talk of torture afterward." 
 
 And Carding and the manager, well satisfied with 
 the result of what they called a "good day's work," 
 followed the president along the verandah to where 
 the dining-table had been set in the open air. 
 
XXI 
 
 THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 
 
 BESIDE one of the widest and most delightful 
 avenues in Honolulu a party of tourists stood 
 facing a pedestal of lava-stone embellished with 
 bronze reliefs of scenes in the history of Hawaii. 
 On their way to visit the territorial Capitol 
 professor Burl and his party had stopped before a 
 relief showing the ship of Captain Cook exploring a 
 tranquil tropic sea which ran to a shore where 
 rioted a tangled grove of cocoa-palms and tree- 
 ferns. Above, on the summit of the pedestal, 
 stood a statue of a Hawaiian king, — erect, dignified, 
 graceful, with one arm extended, a gilded mantle 
 sweeping from his shoulders to his feet. Sunbeams 
 glowed on the golden folds of the trailing robe 
 and glittered on the golden helmet. An inscription 
 informed the public that the statue represented the 
 great King, the Philip of Macedon of the Hawaiian 
 Isles, who had united all of the islands under a 
 single rule. 
 
 The statue faced the territorial Capitol. It 
 seemed appropriate that the king should look 
 toward the Capitol, for once it had been 
 the royal palace. Originally built for a semi- 
 barbaric monarch, it still retained almost the tone 
 it had possessed in the days of the kingdom. It 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 281 
 
 was vast and square and was surrounded with deep, 
 cool galleries, set behind graceful arches. Within 
 the galleries little circular mirrors were fastened 
 against the wall at regular intervals. Their bright 
 polished circles added a bit of glitter which 
 caught and pleased the eye. 
 
 The building was of cream-colored concrete. 
 Its plan was quite novel, for the designer 
 had tried to effect a compromise between 
 many types of architecture — the French, the British 
 and the Spanish, adding some features from the 
 Persian, and a few from the Chinese. The result 
 might be called conglomerate. In a mainland city 
 it would look a little odd. But it harmonized so 
 happily with its tropical setting, that I doubt if any- 
 one would have altered it. Burl frankly admired it. 
 
 As soon as the tourists entered the Capitol 
 grounds, they saw a graceful park opening before 
 them. Everywhere were palms. There were tall, 
 slender cocoa-palms, rustling in the slightest 
 breath from the sea; and long lines of royal palms, 
 stately as the columns of an antique temple; and 
 there were little fan-palms, fluttering their fans by 
 the side of the walks. Beside the palms were 
 immense banyans from India and oaks from Aus- 
 tralia and native trees from the hills of Hawaii, 
 shading wide lawns embroidered with the flaming 
 scarlet of poppies or with the more delicate tints 
 of the flowers of Polynesia; all the coloiv the 
 languor, the fascination of the tropics. The 
 Hawaiian sun was pouring its warm rays down 
 upon the exotic trees, burnishing their lustrous 
 
282 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 green to jade and emerald; and in their midst rose 
 the palace, galleried and many-windowed. 
 
 The party lingered for a minute, just inside the 
 gateway. Straight before them they saw a double 
 row of royal palms, bordering the driveway which 
 led to the palace. At the farther end, framed 
 between the trees, rose a long, wide flight of steps 
 leading to the high pillared arch of the entrance. 
 Tourists were descending the steps. The young 
 men wore white linen suits and straw hats. The 
 young ladies were in white dresses. They carried 
 tinted parasols. The light costumes showed 
 brilliantly against the weathered stone, adding a 
 bit of brightness and color and motion which set 
 off the stately architecture, and enhanced the effect. 
 
 "Truly a palace for a king!!" said Burl. "The 
 Capitol is an architectural dream. Not ten buildings 
 in ten thousand are as beautiful as it. And yet, 
 with all its charm, there seems to be something 
 lacking. It lacks the royal state of a kingly court. 
 It almost makes one regret that royalty has been 
 abolished from Hawaii." 
 
 Now the party started to walk up the avenue. 
 Their plan was to visit the departments of the 
 Capitol. As they went, they plied their Hawaiian 
 guide with questions about everything that caught 
 their attention. There was a bandstand on the 
 lawn, and it attracted the professor's eye. 
 
 "I suppose that is the stand which was built for 
 the king's musicians — the Royal Hawaiian band?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I've heard them a hundred times, 
 playing in that bandstand." 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 283 
 
 "And was the Royal Hawaiian band the same 
 organization as the territorial band of to-day?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; that is, the same man has led the band 
 ever since it was organized." 
 
 "And when was that?" 
 
 "It was when the last king came to his throne, 
 nearly forty years ago. In that year a German 
 bandmaster was imported — one well trained in 
 Wagnerian music, and bringing with him a full 
 collection of all the instruments used in a German 
 military band. I can remember the day he landed 
 in Honolulu. At once he selected a crew of natives 
 and began to train them. The natives took most 
 kindly to the training, for the Hawaiians are a 
 music-loving people. He organized a band of forty 
 pieces, which boasted two base-drums and half a 
 dozen deep-toned horns so large they must circle 
 the bodies of those who blew them. 
 
 "On all state occasions the musicians attended 
 the king. Ah, those were the good old days! 
 Imagine the island-monarch leaving his palace, 
 escorted by his guards, the sunlight glancing 
 on the lines of slanting bayonets, the Royal 
 Hawaiian band at the head of the column. Imagine 
 the cheers of the picturesque crowd, the crash of 
 the music, the pungent odor of spent powder ! But 
 the glory and spirit of those times have gone, 
 never to return." 
 
 When the guide mentioned the king, he removed 
 his hat. His bronze face glowed as he dwelt on 
 the glories of the old regime. He carried his 
 hearers with him on the current of his enthusiasm. 
 
 But Burl was surprised to see a Hawaiian dis- 
 
284 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 playing so much sentiment. He had believed 
 Hawaiians an unthinking and materialistic lot. 
 
 The guide led them up the wide stone steps and 
 within the square entrance. He would conduct them 
 through the legislative chambers. 
 
 To reach those chambers they must pass the 
 the office of the territorial governor. From the door 
 of the office there hurried an army-officer in full 
 uniform, — a tall, straight, muscular, well-built man, 
 his uniform fitting him like a glove. They recog- 
 nized lieutenant Sherrill. 
 
 "I don't want him to think I hold any ill-will 
 on account of that mistake at the W plantation," 
 Burl thought, and he came with hand extended to 
 greet the lieutenant. 
 
 The lieutenant was equally eager to acknowledge 
 the greeting. A minute before he had seemed to 
 be in all the rush of a man on "official business." 
 Now he had plenty of time. In fact, he would 
 accompany the party on its tour of the Capitol. 
 
 He fell into step beside a tall girl, all in white, 
 with a light blue ribbon around her blond hair. 
 On the shoulder of her dress there blushed a pink 
 rose. Her cheeks were as pink as its petals. A 
 great wreath of crimson carnations fell from her 
 shoulders to far below the waist of her dress, a 
 gorgeous bit of tropical color against the white 
 fabric. 
 
 "Is this your first visit to the Capitol, Miss 
 Burl?" he inquired. 
 
 "No, it is our second. We were here some 
 days ago, but we brought no one with us to show 
 us around, and our visit was not very satisfactory." 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 285 
 
 "Then you prefer to have a guide?" 
 
 "Indeed, we do! When we were here before, 
 all we could do was to ramble through the park 
 and wander wonderingly beneath those vast 
 porticoes. We had no one to explain anything 
 to us." 
 
 "If only you had let me know, I should have 
 been only too happy to conduct you. But perhaps 
 you never would have dared trust yourselves to 
 my guidance, after your experience that after- 
 noon." 
 
 "Don't think so for a moment! We have for- 
 gotten everything that happened that afternoon, 
 except its very delightful conclusion." 
 
 "That's very nice of you. And is your guide 
 a success?" 
 
 "He is perfect! He is a real Hawaiian, who was 
 here at the time when the Islands were ruled by 
 a king — the king who built this palace. How much 
 more interesting he makes our visit! He is simply 
 wrapped up in the glory of the old days!" 
 
 "Yes, the Hawaiians are a people who appreciate 
 display, and the king gratified their love for that 
 sort of thing. The king was very fond of show." 
 
 "So we judged, from what our guide told us. 
 He has been describing the days when the king 
 occupied this building as his palace." 
 
 Now they had entered one of the legislative 
 halls, and the guide was expatiating on the 
 brilliance of the court which had been held in that 
 very apartment. 
 
 "Do you believe it actually was as brilliant as he 
 claims?" Miss Burl asked the lieutenant. 
 
286 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 The lieutenant endorsed the guide, without 
 reserve. 
 
 **I have always understood that the last king 
 was very fond of display. Before he came to the 
 throne the Hawaiian monarchy was no better than 
 an advanced form of barbarism. But Kalakaua 
 had ambitions. He would imitate European roy- 
 alty. He aimed to reign with regal magnificence, 
 — Kalakaua, King of the Hawaiians. Although 
 he had only a hundred thousand subjects, he sent 
 a commission to Europe to study and report upon 
 the ways of kings. He himself made a journey 
 around the world. After his return his palace 
 blazed with glory and glitter. I'm sure it was as 
 the guide says." 
 
 "He seems to believe the palace showed best 
 at night." 
 
 "Is there not a charm in artificial illumination, 
 which the full glare of day never possesses?" 
 
 "Isn't there, though? I should have loved to 
 come here on one of those nights that our guide 
 describes. Tell me, Mr. Sherrill, is the Capitol 
 always closed at night nowadays?" 
 
 "It is unless the legislature is in session and 
 prolongs its sitting into the night. Then you 
 might have an opportunity to see these rooms 
 illuminated." 
 
 "And when will the legislature be in session?" 
 
 "Not for many months; the legislature does not 
 meet this year." 
 
 "Then we shall have to give up all notions of 
 visiting the palace by night?" 
 
 Had the speaker been anyone else than Miss 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 287 
 
 Burl, the lieutenant would have simply agreed and 
 let the matter drop. Under the circumstances, 
 he "wondered whether it couldn't be arranged?" 
 
 "I have a little influence," he explained, "and 
 I think I might arrange for a permit. Of course, 
 there would be a small expense for lights and 
 janitor. But, if your father thinks as you do 
 about it, and feels that he could entrust himself 
 and his party to me " 
 
 "Now, please don't bring that up, Mr. Sherrill," 
 flashing him a smile of thanks. 
 
 "And, as for my father, I'll persuade him in two 
 minutes," and she hurried to the professor. 
 
 At that moment a page stepped into the room. 
 He was followed by a stout man, of rather more 
 than middle age, dressed in a white duck suit. The 
 man was aggressively square-shouldered and red- 
 faced. His iron-gray beard was trimmed rather 
 short. 
 
 The boy pointed out lieutenant Sherrill. 
 
 "There's the party you're looking for," he said. 
 
 The man turned to the lieutenant. 
 
 "Are you lieutenant Sherrill, from Fort Ruger?" 
 1 am. 
 
 "I have been trying to reach you by telephone. 
 The reason why I wish to see you is because I 
 am looking for a Mr. Kenneth Crane. He is not 
 at his hotel. They referred me to you. They 
 suggested that perhaps you can tell me where to 
 find him." 
 
 The lieutenant hesitated. 
 
 "I am not informed as to where Mr. Crane is 
 
288 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 just now. Did he leave no word as to when he 
 will return to his hotel?" 
 
 "None whatever." 
 
 The lieutenant eyed his visitor half doubtfully 
 and then inquired, 
 
 "May I ask your name and the nature of your 
 business with Mr. Crane?" 
 
 "I am James Coburn, sir, master of the Amer- 
 ican ship Agamemnon. If I can find Mr. Crane, 
 it will be to his advantage." 
 
 Sherrill remembered Coburn was one of the 
 minority stockholders. Slowly he drew a letter 
 from an inner pocket. 
 
 "I received this note last night. It is the 
 latest communication I have had from Crane. It 
 is rather indefinite, but it may be of some 
 assistance," and he handed it to the captain. 
 
 The captain read as follows: 
 
 My dear lieutenant: Please don't give yourself any 
 concern over what you saw this afternoon. The whole 
 affair was the outcome of a practical joke plus a mistake 
 on my part. While a little shaken by my thrilling 
 experience, I am all right, and am about to enjoy for 
 a few days a very delightful sojourn with some very 
 good friends of mine. They are doing their best to 
 entertain me. In fact we are planning a night visit to 
 the territorial Capitol for to-morrow evening. Later, 
 if you are interested, I shall take pleasure in calling at 
 your quarters, to explain how the mistake occurred. 
 Yours very truly, Kenneth Crane. 
 
 "This note was brought to the Fort last night," 
 the lieutenant explained, for it was the morning 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 289 
 
 after Crane's escape and capture. "The messen- 
 ger gave it to a sentry, who brought it to me." 
 
 The captain studied the message. 
 
 "It sounds a little peculiar," he said. "Of course, 
 I don't know what the incident was to which he 
 
 refers, but . Do you think this note is 
 
 genuine? Are you sure this is Crane's hand- 
 writing?" 
 
 "I thought of that, and I compared it with 
 another note, which he sent to me once before. 
 The writing appears to be the same, although 
 this note shows traces of haste and nervousness, 
 which are no more than natural. I happen to 
 know that Crane had been under considerable 
 nervous strain, yesterday," and the lieutenant 
 thought to himself, 
 
 "Strain enough to destroy the nerve of a 
 government mule." 
 
 Professor Burl approached and addressed the 
 officer : 
 
 "My daughter tells me that you have been so 
 kind as to offer to get us permission to make 
 a night visit to the Capitol, this evening. We 
 should be most happy to avail ourselves of the 
 offer, and to defray any expense that might be 
 incurred." 
 
 The captain caught the words. They gave 
 him an idea. If he were to join Sherrill's party 
 that night, it would give him an opportunity to 
 meet Crane and his party, and to meet them in 
 a perfectly natural way. It would suit his plans 
 to a T. He said as much to Sherrill. 
 
290 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 In a few words the lieutenant explained the 
 situation to Burl. An introduction followed. 
 
 "Anyone whom lieutenant Sherrill brings, will 
 be very welcome to our party," Burl protested. 
 
 Now that Sherrill was interested, the whole 
 matter moved on oiled wheels. He made another 
 visit to the governor's office, where the necessary 
 permit for "lieutenant Sherrill and party" was 
 secured in a moment. The janitor was summoned 
 and interviewed. He would be only too happy 
 to earn a gratuity by being there that evening 
 to unlock and light the building. Captain Coburn 
 would meet the party at the hotel. 
 
 It was eight p. m. when they met in the lobby 
 of the hotel. Captain Coburn was there. He 
 had exchanged his light straw hat for a black 
 broad-brim, and his white duck suit for a blue 
 serge. 
 
 A few minutes' walk brought them to the 
 western gateway to the Capitol grounds. They 
 saw the great building, with all of its windows 
 alight, glowing nobly among the trees. While the 
 grounds were not "spangled with hundreds of 
 lanterns," their dark shade rendered the illumi- 
 nation of the Capitol the more impressive. As 
 the party ascended the short avenue, the great 
 square portal showed before them a blaze of 
 light, in which they saw in black silhouette the 
 figure of a servant who would conduct them 
 through the galleries and halls. 
 
 They entered a wide vestibule and ascended a 
 curving staircase, came to a pair of doors 
 magnificently carved from koa wood, and waited 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 291 
 
 while their guide unlocked them. He bowed the 
 party into a room which had been the scene of 
 a hundred royal receptions when the king was 
 on his throne. 
 
 In the days of the Hawaiian monarchy it had 
 been the royal audience chamber. The frescoed 
 ceiling still was decorated with the arms of 
 Hawaii. The dais was furnished with a pair of 
 high plush chairs, upholstered in scarlet and gold, 
 and above them hung a superb plush canopy, 
 heavily brocaded and crowned with a golden eagle, 
 for they were the throne-chairs on which 
 the king and his consort had rested. Between them 
 was a doorway leading from a robing-room; 
 it was covered with portieres of deep, rich, moss- 
 green velvet. All around the walls were richly 
 framed canvases, — portraits of European kings and 
 of former native rulers. Great prism chandeliers, 
 glittering with crystal pendants, searched the 
 apartment with their light. 
 
 The rich carpet under foot, the soft tints of 
 the walls, and the paintings in their gilded frames, 
 blended with the carven oak and glittering 
 upholstery to leave ap impression of utter 
 sumptuousness. 
 
 "What a setting for a court-reception!!" said 
 Miss Burl. "How this hall must have sparkled 
 when filled with brilliant uniforms and rich 
 dresses, 'fair women and brave men,* and all the 
 rest, you know." 
 
 She was speaking to lieutenant Sherrill, who 
 had gravitated to her side, somehow. He thought 
 that never had the young lady looked more 
 
292 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 charming. She wore her white silk dinner dress, 
 and had thrown the wrap aside. In deference to 
 the tropical climate, the officer wore a white 
 uniform. The uniforms of the "staff" had 
 greater possibilities than those of the "line." His 
 tunic glittered with golden shoulder-straps and 
 braid. 
 
 Now they stood face to face. Behind them a 
 great curtain of the richest, deepest, moss-green 
 velvet hung in heavy folds. The deep folds of the 
 curtain, the glitter of the uniform, the light 
 glancing on the lady's dress, combined to make 
 a brilliant picture. But perhaps Miss Burl's 
 girlish face was more delightful than all the 
 rest. 
 
 "Imagine the scene," she continued, "when these 
 portieres were flung wide, and the dusky announcer 
 shouted *The King,' and the island monarch 
 entered, bowing to right and left, his consort 
 leaning on his arm!" 
 
 The lieutenant smiled at her sparkling 
 enthusiasm. Then he suggested that her reference 
 to brilliant uniforms at the king's receptions, was 
 particularly happy. 
 
 "They say that the state costumes of the king 
 and his cabinet were miracles of gorgeousness," 
 he explained. Then he paused and repeated the 
 words "miracles of gorgeousness." He seemed to 
 like the phrase. 
 
 "They say," he continued, "that the artist who 
 designed those uniforms, attempted to snatch all 
 the colors from the spectrum and all the glory 
 from the aurora borealis. Such combinations of 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 293 
 
 scarlet brocade, sky-blue velvet and gold lace have 
 seldom been seen in the world's history. In fact, 
 they say that the reign of his dusky majesty was 
 one long vaudeville performance." 
 
 "I suppose," the young lady answered, "that 
 when a people make their first attempts at playing 
 at royalty, those attempts are apt to be a little 
 crude. But I can't help regretting that those days 
 are gone." 
 
 "I wouldn't," he answered. 
 
 "Yet they certainly had the glory and glitter 
 of outward show." 
 
 "I know. Pomp and parade and publicity." 
 
 "And we may regret their picturesque side." 
 
 "Yes. But on the inside there was nothing but 
 license and licentiousness. The old simile of the 
 marble sepulcher fitted the court precisely." 
 
 "Beautiful to see " 
 
 "But within, all was corruption. And there was 
 a cruel side to the Hawaiian kings. In former 
 reigns, according to the old custom, the fate of 
 anyone who tried to interfere with the king's 
 prerogatives, had been perfectly certain. The 
 execution had been very sudden and very informal 
 — so informal that, in some reigns, the king himself 
 had served as executioner. But when the last king 
 came to the throne, he would introduce more 
 formality. The method of administering the 
 punishment, would be more awe-inspiring. He 
 ordered a Death Chamber as one of the appoint- 
 ments of his palace. 
 
 "It was constructed deep within the foundations. 
 It was built of dark volcanic stone, with walls so 
 
294 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 thick that not a groan might reach the outer air. 
 Within it were placed the head's-man's block and 
 axe, of the most approved medieval pattern. And 
 there were installed instruments of torture, calcu- 
 lated to wring confession from the most stoical, — 
 the wheel, the rack, the screw." 
 
 "Oh, horrors!" 
 
 "Pray don't distress yourself, for the things 
 never were used. At first they were a laughing- 
 stock. Later they were forgotten. To-day there 
 are very few in Honolulu who know that such a 
 place ever existed." 
 
 "But what became of the place?" 
 
 "I suppose it still is there. In fact, the only 
 time its use was seriously proposed was after the 
 king's death." 
 
 "Who was so hard-hearted as to propose it?" 
 
 "It was the queen, his successor, and this was 
 how it came about. After the queen had been 
 driven from her throne, and a republic had been 
 set up. Congress sent a representative to Honolulu, 
 to consider her restoration. The queen was asked 
 whether, if restored to power, she would grant a 
 general amnesty. She answered that "she 
 would grant it to all except the leaders; as for 
 them, the law must take its course." The law 
 meant — decapitation. That answer settled the 
 question as to whether Congress would restore the 
 queen to power." 
 
 "She must have been vindictive." 
 
 "You must remember her descent from a long 
 line of savage and barbaric ancestors and judge her 
 accordingly." 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 295 
 
 While they talked, the other members of the 
 party had left the room. A little embarrassed, they 
 turned to follow. 
 
 The lieutenant's account of the Death Chamber 
 had stimulated Miss Burl's imagination. 
 
 "I can imagine the secret vault, given up to dust 
 and cobwebs," she said, "locked and forgotten, 
 down among the foundations. Oh, wouldn't it be 
 an adventure if we could find it! Have you ever 
 seen it, Mr. Sherrill?" 
 
 "It has been pointed out to me. We army- 
 officers are initiated into many things of which the 
 general public knows very little." 
 
 "Then you could find it for us." 
 
 "I certainly could, Miss Burl. No doubt this 
 man who opened the building for us, has the key." 
 
 "Do get him to open it for us. Just think what 
 an adventure! All of us creeping by the light of 
 a lantern, along some dark and narrow passage, 
 between walls of volcanic rock, until we reach the 
 mysterious chamber, where we shall see grim 
 relics which will recall to our minds those we saw 
 in the Tower of London." 
 
 The lieutenant needed no urging. He hurried 
 to speak to the man who carried the keys. But 
 the man denied all knowledge of such a room. A 
 native Hawaiian, he was loyal t® his former rulers. 
 He asserted indignantly that the king never would 
 have tolerated such a place. 
 
 "That sounds queer," Sherrill thought "He 
 seems a little too indignant. There is something 
 very odd about this fellow." 
 
 He had a fair recollection of the location of the 
 
296 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 room. While the man led the party around one 
 of the galleries, Sherrill drew an electric torch from 
 his pocket, quietly separated himself from the 
 others, and sought the basement of the building. 
 
 He found the passage which he remembered as 
 leading to the room. It was almost as Miss Burl 
 had imagined it, — low and narrow and running 
 between walls of black volcanic rock. He traversed 
 it by the glow of his electric torch. Suddenly he 
 shut off the light. A sharp bend in the passage 
 had brought him before the door, which instead 
 of being locked, was partly open. Within the room 
 there were lights and noises. Sherrill decided to 
 investigate before announcing himself. 
 
 Cautiously he reconnoitered. What he saw was 
 quite enough. He hurried to the upper floors and 
 sought captain Cobum. 
 
 "Captain Cobum," he began, "will you oblige 
 me by coming to one side? I want to speak with 
 you." 
 
 The captain came. 
 
 "You came here this evening, expecting to meet 
 another party, which would include Mr. Crane." 
 
 "Yes, sir. He's the man I'm looking for." 
 
 "Have you any idea he might have gotten him- 
 self into some difficulty?" 
 
 "He might.' 
 
 "In case you found he had gotten into difficulties, 
 would you be inclined to help him?" 
 
 "If the officers of the X Sugar Company were 
 making the trouble, I'd certainly help him all I 
 could." 
 
 "Then come with me." 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 297 
 
 They descended to the vaults and threaded the 
 narrow passage, the glow of Sherrill's electric 
 torch playing on the stone walls as they 
 went. Suddenly the lieutenant snapped off the 
 light. He and Captain Cobum, themselves unseen, 
 stopped where they could glimpse the interior of 
 the Torture Chamber. 
 
 They lurked in the shadow and peered around a 
 corner of the passage. It was a cave-like room into 
 which they looked. The low ceiling of the vault 
 hung in heavy arches. The walls were solid and 
 unbroken. The floor was the dark stone. 
 . The place was perhaps twenty feet square. The 
 only light was furnished by electric torches, which 
 played fitfully over walls and furnishings. 
 
 Those furnishings were as Sherrill had said — 
 modern copies of the instruments of torture of 
 the Middle Ages; vague and only half revealed by 
 the uncertain light. 
 
 On one of them — a heavy wooden frame, resemb- 
 ling a low bed — a Japanese was stretched. At the 
 head of the bed two Koreans revolved a windlass. 
 The side of the framework was toward the 
 entrance. Beyond it the manager and officers of 
 the X Sugar Company rested on chairs. Crane 
 stood between two Korean guards. In the back- 
 ground groups of Japanese were guarded. 
 
 The dull glow of electric torches, the pale, death- 
 like faces of the Koreans, the low, frightened 
 chattering of the Japanese, made a scene which was 
 weirdly impressive. Except the frightened mur- 
 murs of the prisoners and the creaking of the 
 windlass, there was no sound to be heard save 
 
298 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 the low humming of a fan which drew air to the 
 room through a subterranean passage. 
 
 As Sherrill studied the scene, he wondered that 
 they had not commenced with Crane. As a matter 
 of fact, the manager had proposed it. 
 
 "Let's begin with this fellow," he had said, and 
 had struck a stinging blow with his riding-glove 
 on the side of Crane's face. 
 
 "Let's end with this fellow," Atten had inter- 
 rupted. "Let's have him see the fate of his helpers 
 first. We'll torture him fifteen times over that 
 way." 
 
 Now they thought Crane absorbed in watching 
 the "expedient ruthlessness" of the punishment of 
 the Japanese. They thought his m.ind full of 
 wretchedness as he sensed what would come to 
 him. It would have surprised them to know that 
 his thoughts were drifting from the room. A man's 
 thoughts and his situation, frequently are incon- 
 gruous enough. 
 
 Crane's mind reverted to the morning of his 
 arrival in Honolulu, when from the deck of the 
 "Nevada" he had beheld for the first time the 
 gorgeous tropical landscape. He recalled vividly 
 the pictures he had watched from the steamship 
 — the white coral, the blue sea, the green palms — 
 the rolling of the waves, the foaming of the surf, 
 the waving of graceful branches. That memory 
 evoked another, of those delicious days spent in 
 circumnavigating the island. How remote it all 
 seemed now! Well, he who embarks in hazardous 
 enterprises must be ready to take the consequences. 
 
THE PALACE OF THE ISLAND KING 299 
 
 But now captain Coburn was watching, and 
 Coburn's mind did not wander from the business 
 in hand. He rose to the situation. In a breathless 
 whisper he outlined his plan to Sherrill. Noise- 
 lessly he made his way to the upper floor; then 
 rushed from the building. 
 
XXII 
 
 COBURN TO THE RESCUE 
 
 FROM the palace to Borneo pier the distance 
 was a scant half-mile, and at Borneo pier the 
 four-masted ship Agamemnon lay moored. Its 
 tall masts and heavy spars rose dimly in the still 
 night air, looming above the broad roof of the 
 shed which covered the wharf. The great arched 
 entrance to the shed yawned, black and cavernous, 
 before captain Coburn. 
 
 He entered hurriedly. The sound of his heavy 
 tread on the concrete, aroused the watchman, who 
 came running. But he recognized the captain, 
 and escorted him to the Agamemnon's gang- 
 plank. 
 
 On board a sailing-ship the quarters for the 
 officers are aft; those for the men are forward 
 Coburn turned toward the Agamemnon's cabin. He 
 found the door to Mr. Swanson's stateroom, and 
 rapped. 
 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 "The captain. I need you. Swanson." 
 
 "Yes, sir. One minute," and Coburn heard the 
 scraping of a match. The first mate flung himself 
 into his clothes, while the captain was arousing 
 the second mate. All three men met at the square 
 dining-table, where Coburn had coaxed a light to 
 the wick of the swinging lamp. 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 301 
 
 "What's up, captain?" 
 
 "Sit down, boys, and 111 tell you. A bunch of 
 sharks have hold of a friend of mine. They haven't 
 done much to him, so far, but I guess they mean 
 to torture the life out of him, before they finish. 
 What do you say if we rouse the crew, arm them 
 with capstan-bars, and clean out the gang? Are 
 you with me?" 
 
 "You bet we are, captain!" Both mates were 
 emphatic. 
 
 "Good! We've thirty men for'ad. They'll handle 
 those sharks as though they were yellow dogs." 
 
 Captain Coburn was quite correct when he said 
 he "had thirty good men forward." Whatever the 
 lurid sensation-monger may say to the contrary, 
 competent seaman can be obtained. The ship- 
 master who "doesn't know where to find them," 
 who permits the shipping of a crew of incompe- 
 tents, is himself an incompetent. No one had 
 ever accused captain Coburn of that. 
 
 The thirty men who sailed "before the mast" 
 in the Agamemnon, were husky and hearty and 
 up to their work; and all of them were Norwegians. 
 There were those among them who needed a 
 strong hand over them, but captain Coburn pos- 
 sessed that sort of a hand, — two of them, in fact. 
 
 These men bunked in the forward-house, a square 
 structure, built at the foot of the foremast. There 
 the captain and his mates went. Swanson entered. 
 
 "Turn out, boys. Some of the captain's friends 
 are in trouble, and there's going to be a fight." 
 
 A fight! Would the Norwegians come? Will a 
 cat lap cream? A succession of heavy thuds were 
 
302 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 heard, the sound of men springing from their 
 bunks to the deck. 
 
 As the men came out, they were lined up near 
 the gangway. Lights were brought, ship's lanterns 
 and sideHghts. What a picture it was! Above 
 them, the mighty shaft of the mainmast towered 
 aloft, supported by its heavy shrouds, its wide 
 spars outlined against the starlit sky. At the 
 foot of the mast the lines of men, ranged between 
 the heavy bulwarks, were half revealed by the 
 dim beams of lanterns. Just roused from sleep, 
 curious and expectant, they waited to hear what 
 the captain would say. 
 
 Captain Coburn's face was revealed by the 
 volcanic glow of the big cigar which he puffed 
 furiously. Now he removed the cigar and spoke. 
 
 "Boys, we're going to have a little fun. We've 
 got to clean out a little bunch of sharks and a 
 crew of Koreans. We could handle them all with 
 our bare hands, but we'll take along the capstan- 
 bars and a few belaying-pins. I expect we'll finish 
 this job and all be back in our bunks in an hour's 
 time." 
 
 Under the mate's direction, they ran for the 
 bars. They were provided also with short lengths 
 of cord, to be used in tieing prisoners. 
 
 In amazement, the watchman stood by the side 
 of the gang-plank and saw the long line file down 
 to the pier. 
 
 "What does it mean?" he asked Swanson. 
 
 "Captain's orders. We've got to go ashore, but 
 we'll be back during the night." 
 
 The captain marched his men out from the pier, 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 303 
 
 and formed them into column of fours. The two 
 mates closed the rear of the column. Captain 
 Coburn was on his way to the scene of action. 
 When he returned to the Capitol, he would come 
 with the crew of the Agamemnon at his back. 
 
 There are oaks in Honlulu, — Australian silk oaks, 
 standing prim and slim and tall as poplars, — and, 
 being Australian oaks, they are always covered 
 with leaves, and in the shadow of their leaves 
 there stands an iron fence of an intricate pattern, 
 and that fence guards the grounds of the territorial 
 Capitol, once the royal palace. 
 
 Burl and his party stood at the gateway, where 
 they waited for the return of captain Coburn. All 
 around them the ground was darkened by the 
 shadows of the silk-oaks. Outside, the arc-lights 
 glittered on the pavement and on the road, making 
 a brilliant background against which the barrier 
 showed in sharpest silhouette. It was a combination 
 full of contrast, — the deep shade of the trees, the 
 glare of the arc-lights, the iron bars ruling the road 
 with their black pattern. They watched the picture 
 in silence. 
 
 What a situation it was! Coming to the Capitol 
 as tourists, bent on an evening's outing, to find 
 themselves plunged into an intrigue and struggle 
 which recalled the methods of the Middle Ages, 
 when Montagues and Capulets fought out their 
 feuds. Before their very eyes the balance was 
 wavering. They could not go without first seeing 
 how it would settle. 
 
 All around them spread the beauty of the quiet 
 
304 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 night. The soft breath of the trade-wind barely 
 stirred the trees. In the park all was balm and 
 palms and the fragrant tropics. Nothing jarred the 
 serenity; nothing jangled. And yet, within the 
 foundations of the building behind them, cruelty 
 was being let loose. Outside there was peace; 
 inside, the barbarities of the Middle Ages were 
 being re-enacted. But, — this was Honolulu! 
 
 On the mainland such occurrences would have 
 seemed to them amazingly out-of-date and improb- 
 able. But here in Hawaii, with its surging, boiling 
 coral reefs and scarlet flowers and purple gardens, 
 its tropical atmosphere and its isolation from the 
 rest of the world, anything seemed possible. 
 
 Now they heard the tramp of marching men, the 
 thud of thick-soled shoes, such as are worn by 
 Norwegian seamen. Captain Coburn was coming 
 with the crew of the Agamemnon at his back, 
 tramping along the pavement beneath where the 
 statue of an ancient Hawaiian king stretched out 
 his arm. 
 
 Burl and his party thought of the seamen who 
 were coming, and then their minds turned back to 
 the dungeon, the grim, low vault where in fancied 
 security the villains of the play were working 
 their will. Would the men of the Agamemnon be 
 able to reverse the situation? Suppose the Koreans 
 to be armed with cane-knives, what then? Had 
 Coburn counted on that? 
 
 In truth, Coburn had thought of that. He had 
 thought of it while he stood within the passage, 
 and he had observed that the Koreans were unarmed. 
 
 Now the tourists drew back, for the seamen 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 305 
 
 were entering the Capitol grounds, tramping up 
 the avenue and up the wide stone steps which led 
 to the western entrance. Lieutenant Sherrill waited 
 there, holding captive the care-taker. When he 
 had seized the man, it had become necessary to 
 explain the state of affairs to the tourists. 
 
 Captain Coburn halted his party in the hallway. 
 There he marshalled his men in battle array, two 
 by two. He would lead them direct to the rescue. 
 
 "Just leave this matter to me," he said to 
 Sherrill. "If you'll guard that fellow, that's all 
 I want." 
 
 He placed himself at the head of his men, 
 switched on the current of his electric torch, and 
 led them to a dark stairway. The tourists, who 
 had followed the men into the building, heard 
 them stamping their way down the stone steps. 
 
 "Now, quiet, boys," the captain commanded, 
 when they reached the lowest level. Their heavy 
 tread was subdued to a slow shuffling, as they 
 tip-toed toward the end of the passage. They 
 clasped their fingers with a firmer grip on capstan- 
 bars and belaying-pins. A minute more, and those 
 weapons would be in use, as the men would sweep, 
 with a rush and a yell, upon the Koreans. 
 
 "Halt!" The captain was standing before the 
 door, but the door was shut, — shut and locked. 
 Through the thick planks came the sound of 
 melancholy howls. 
 
 He ran the bright circle of his torch over the 
 wood. How tremendously heavy it was ! Cautiously 
 and noiselessly he tested the fastenings. The 
 latch gave, but the door appeared to be bolted on 
 
306 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the inside. Meanwhile, the air in the passage 
 was becoming close and poisonous. Behind him 
 he heard the heavy breathing of the Norwegians, 
 and he knew he could not hold them there long. 
 The only thing to do was to "about face," march 
 to the open air, and make plans for a siege. 
 
 Up to the open air they came. The tourists were 
 surprised to see them return without a prisoner. 
 But Coburn explained the situation in a word. 
 
 "Door's locked," he said. "We'll have to burst 
 in. Here, you!" and he turned to the native care- 
 taker. "What sort of fastenings have they on that 
 door? Now, tell the truth, if you don't want to 
 find trouble. Play any tricks, and we'll take the 
 hide off you." 
 
 Thus encouraged, the man was able to recollect 
 just how the door was fastened. There were 
 "heavy bolts, above and below." 
 
 "Any braces?" 
 
 "No, no braces." 
 
 "Then we can break in. Boys, put the capstan- 
 bars together." 
 
 The bars — stout oaken sticks, six feet long, three 
 inches in diameter, and square at one end — were 
 arranged side by side in a square bundle, a bundle 
 which was bound together with cords that had 
 been brought to tie the prospective prisoners. 
 While his men worked, the captain pondered the 
 situation. 
 
 So far, he told himself, he had acted too precip- 
 itately. He should have reconnoitered the passage 
 once more, before he led his men into it. He had 
 counted too strongly on the situation remaining 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 307 
 
 unchanged. How he regretted the loss of the 
 opportunity for a complete surprise! But, after 
 all, would it make much difference ? The Koreans 
 and their employers would be so embarassed by 
 the Japanese, that they could not offer much of a 
 defense. Still, there might be fire-arms in the 
 party, and if it took long to batter in the door, 
 they might be able to put themselves in a position 
 for a very serious resistance. Well, this much was 
 certain, the assault on the door must be made as 
 short, sharp and sudden as possible. Perhaps by 
 good luck it might be driven off its hinges at the 
 first blow. In that case there would be a surprise. 
 The captain directed his men to tie the cords 
 around the bars in such fashion that the knots 
 could be pulled open in an instant. If there 
 should be a surprise, those cords would be needed 
 on the moment. 
 
 The capstan-bars were ready, tied together in 
 a fashion which met the approval of both the 
 mates. They were put into the hands of six 
 men, the stoutest in the crew, who were told what 
 was expected of them. Once more the party 
 descended the stone steps. 
 
 Coburn, as soon as he had brought his men 
 to the foot of the stairs, stopped them there, while 
 he went in advance. This time he would make 
 a reconnoissance. Perhaps the room had been 
 thrown open in the meanwhile. 
 
 No, it still was closed, but he noticed a gleam of 
 light which came through the great keyhole. He 
 heard a muttering of voices within the room. He 
 
3dd THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 knelt with his ear to the opening. Now he could 
 hear the words distinctly. 
 
 It was Atten's voice that came to the captain. 
 It appeared that he was lecturing someone. 
 
 "Now, you poor, paltry, pitiful yellow pup," he 
 said, "you see what you are going to get. You'd 
 kidnap us, would you, and use 'physical suasion?' 
 I agree with you, physical suasion's the thing; 
 but two can play at that game." 
 
 "What a fool you must be," another voice went 
 on, "imagining that you, single-handed, could carry 
 out such a program as yours! You see where you 
 have brought yourself. Yesterday you were 
 hunted over the island, like a jack-rabbit with the 
 hounds after him. To-day we torture you. To- 
 morrow — you disappear." 
 
 Another voice — it was the manager's — ^broke in. 
 
 "Hit her up again, boys. Tear 'em to pieces." 
 
 This was followed by a howl of distress. 
 
 "I guess I'll change the complexion of this 
 business," thought the captain, and he tip-toed back 
 to his men. Once more he led them down the 
 passage. He stopped them a dozen feet from the 
 door. 
 
 That door was a massive affair, a double thick- 
 ness of heavy planks, heavily bolted together. Had 
 it been in good preservation, a long battering 
 would have been necessary before it yielded. But 
 it had not been built of native wood. Imported 
 oak had been used. The oak had succumbed to 
 dry-rot. Though outwardly sound, it was only 
 a shell. 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 309 
 
 The men with the capstan-bars, crouched for 
 a rush. 
 
 "Now, boys. All ready. Let her go." 
 
 And the six men dashed forward with their 
 improvised battering-ram. The door stopped them 
 hardly more than a sheet of paper. It flew from 
 its hinges and fell in splinters on the floor. The 
 men charged to the very center of the place. And 
 on their heels came the rest of the crew, pouring 
 into the room, a living avalanche. 
 
 Imagine the scene and the situation! The low 
 vaulted room, with its close, sultry air, the group 
 of sugar-planters made conspicuous by their 
 suits of white duck, the yellow-skinned Koreans, 
 the bronze faces of the Japanese in the back- 
 ground, the door flying in fragments, the shouts 
 of the seamen as they burst in, the rush and 
 clatter of heavy shoes, the crash of falling furni- 
 ture, the wild jabbering and high-pitched screams 
 of the Orientals, while all the time a fan that 
 drew air into the room through a hidden passage, 
 kept up its droning hum. 
 
 "Put out the lights," called the president. 
 
 But the lights — electric torches — had been placed 
 on shelves and brackets where they were not 
 easily reached. Before one of them could be 
 extinguished, Coburn's men were tying up the 
 last of the Koreans, and held the employers as 
 prisoners. A bloodless victory had been gained. 
 
 But had it? Carding still was at liberty. In 
 the confusion, he had dodged into a dusky 
 corner, aff^orded by a high cabinet. He saw that 
 all was lost, but he also saw that neither Crane 
 
310 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 nor any of the Japanese had been loosed from 
 their bonds as yet. A chair stood just behind 
 Crane. Carding sprang forward, gripped the 
 chair, and swung it for Crane's head. The blow 
 was a vicious one. Crane fell like a log. But 
 the mate of the Agamemnon was as quick as 
 Carding. While the young man still held the 
 chair, and before he could raise it in defense, the 
 mate had swung a capstan-bar. Carding fell to 
 the floor, by the side of Crane. 
 
 Were either of them killed? A hurried examina- 
 tion decided that, while both had been knocked 
 senseless, neither would suffer anything worse 
 than a severe headache when he came to. Two 
 men lifted each of them, to carry them to the 
 open air. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Norwegians had found the key 
 to the handcuffs and were freeing the Japanese. 
 Their fetters were transferred to the wrists of the 
 Koreans. But how the seamen stared around them 
 in astonishment while they worked, wondering 
 at the outlandish machines with which the room 
 was fitted! Such a place never had been dreamt 
 of in their philosophy. 
 
 The Japanese were clamoring that the manager 
 and officers of the company should be stretched 
 on the torture bed and given a taste of the treat- 
 ment they had been giving others a minute before. 
 
 "No, no. I'm willing to rescue you fellows, but 
 you must do your own fighting," and Captain 
 Coburn directed his men to collect the electric 
 torches, cut off the current from the fan, and 
 bring everyone to the upper floor. 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 311 
 
 He noticed the alert movements of the Japanese, 
 who hurried in advance, a grinning, chattering 
 troop. 
 
 "You fellows don't seem to be any the worse 
 for wear," he said. 
 
 One of them answered with a broad, yellow- 
 toothed grin, 
 
 "Japanese very strong. Them fellow no know 
 nothing. Not hurt much. I make loud noise — 
 very bad. Then he think he hurt me." 
 
 It seemed that, as torturers, the Koreans had 
 been very amateurish. 
 
 Burl and his party were waiting in the vestibule, 
 where lieutenant Sherrill stood with his hand firmly 
 gripped on the collar of the native care-taker. 
 They heard the footsteps of the seamen, stumbling 
 up the stairs. The men entered the hall. What 
 were they bringing? Two dead men? So it 
 seemed, at first glance, for Crane and Carding 
 were totally unconscious; their faces were deadly 
 pale. 
 
 The men laid them on the floor and called for 
 water. A bucketful was brought and dashed on 
 the faces of the sleepers. Then they stirred, as 
 consciousness came back. 
 
 While the two mates of the Agamemnon were 
 administering "first aid to the injured," Sherrill 
 prepared to carry out his promise to conduct the 
 visitors to the vaults. He still carried his electric 
 torch. It glowed in his hand. From the supply 
 which had been seized, four were selected and 
 distributed among the tourists. They turned the 
 
312 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 glare of the lights down the dark staircase, and 
 prepared to descend. Sherrill led the way. 
 
 Threading their way through the passage, they 
 came to the Torture Chamber. Many of the 
 machines had been overturned when the men of 
 the Agamemnon had rushed in, but the bed where 
 the Japanese had been stretched still stood in the 
 center of the floor, ready for use, just as the 
 president had ordered it placed. Now the party 
 gathered around it, flashing their lights over its 
 levers and cords and heavy beams. The grim 
 machine, in that grim vault, seemed to carry them 
 back through a thousand years of the world's 
 history. 
 
 Then came the thought, — who would believe 
 their story, even if they were to tell of the night's 
 experience? The situation seemed incredible. 
 How preposterous was the idea of sober and 
 seemly citizens of Honolulu, dragging their 
 victims into the depths of a subterranean dungeon, 
 to torture them with all the barbarities of the 
 Middle Ages! But here was the evidence before 
 their eyes. Undoubtedly, Hawaiian methods were 
 more primitive than the methods of the mainland. 
 
 They turned to explore the apartment, for its 
 subtle fascination still held them. Yes, there were 
 the headsman's block and axe, as Sherrill had 
 said. Well, such objects might appeal to the 
 whim of a semi-barbaric monarch, but who would 
 believe that men of the twentieth century would 
 be the first to put them to practical use. 
 
 They had brought the care-taker with them. 
 Now Sherrill required him to restore the fallen 
 
COBURN TO THE RESCUE 313 
 
 furniture to its proper position. The door was 
 beyond redemption, but another remained in the 
 outer passage. As the party came out, the man 
 turned a ponderous key in a massive lock. The 
 bolts grated, and the passage leading to the Torture 
 Chamber was closed, for possibly another thirty 
 years. 
 
 "Isn't there a strong probability that this man 
 may tell of what has happened to-night?" asked 
 professor Burl. 
 
 "No probability whatever," answered the 
 lieutenant, with a smile. "I made sure of that, while 
 Coburn was bringing his men. This fellow is 
 frightened to death for fear the authorities will 
 learn that he connived at the illegal use of a 
 government building." 
 
 The party returned to the upper floor. They 
 left the building. For the last time that night 
 they stood in the western gateway to the Capitol 
 grounds. Like Lot's wife, they turned for a 
 final look. 
 
 They caught a shadowy glimpse of the men of 
 the Agamemnon leading their prisoners to a 
 remote corner of the palace park, where stood a 
 group of gigantic banyan trees. Beneath those 
 trees, within their deep shade, the prisoners would 
 be guarded till the small hours, when they might 
 be marched back to Manoa valley without attract- 
 ing attention. One by one the lights in the 
 building winked out. Presently the grounds lay 
 dark beneath the starlight, their obscurity only 
 made greater by the glare of the electric arcs 
 outside. Burl and his party started to walk to 
 
314 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 their hotel. So far as they were concerned, the 
 evening's adventure was at an end. But the 
 professor only voiced the sentiments of the others 
 when he said, 
 
 "I imagine that when Mr. Crane comes to 
 settle accounts with his would-be torturers, there 
 will be interesting developments." 
 
XXIII 
 
 BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 
 
 IN MANOA valley once more, and sheltered 
 behind the triple hedge of cocoa-palms. In 
 the president's garden honey-yellow tulips, 
 growing in beds of honey-yellow pansies, were 
 shaded by yellow roses trained over a trellis. The 
 roses were shaded in turn by banana-palms and 
 poplars, and all the while the ear was soothed with 
 the rippling of a little stream bringing water to 
 the flowers and trees. Across the poppy-beds and 
 on the branches above, the saucy mynah-birds 
 were dancing. Their black plumage and their 
 white-banded wings flashed as they darted out 
 from the shadows into the sunshine. The cooing 
 of a dove blended with the splashing of a foun- 
 tain — a fountain where above the marble basin, a 
 breadfruit tree bent its great green leaves and 
 heavy fruit. The leaves were enormous and their 
 shade was very grateful. By the side of the tree 
 there stood a stone bench, deeply cushioned, and 
 on those cushions the Californian was resting. 
 
 Monarch of all he surveyed, he luxuriated in 
 the warmth and the peace and the fruitfulness 
 which surrounded him. At that moment it 
 pleased him to survey the five villains of this 
 island drama, who were obviously at a low ebb 
 in their fluctuating fortunes. 
 
316 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 Armed with heavy two-pronged hoes, and driven 
 by the Japanese, they were cultivating the garden, 
 striving to maintain its immaculate order. Kept 
 strictly to their work, perspiration was pouring 
 down their faces and streaking their white duck 
 suits. The dirty and toil-worn appearance of 
 their clothing showed that they must have been 
 kept at their present uncongenial occupation for 
 some days. 
 
 Crane placed a fresh piece of ice within the 
 bandage which circled his forehead, for he still 
 suffered from Carding's blow. In fact, he had 
 barely escaped brain-fever. Then he called to 
 Wanto, 
 
 "Keep them moving, Wanto. Remember the 
 night in that palace." 
 
 Wanto grinned. A few whacks of the bamboos 
 followed. The heavy hoes rose and fell with 
 increased energy. 
 
 Now the ice was melting, and the throbbing in 
 the Californian*s head subsided. He needed that 
 head just now, for he must plan what to do with 
 the prisoners. He must decide on a way out of the 
 present situation. And the plan must be some- 
 thing rare and bizarre — something to match the 
 country — something with a Honolulu tone. Would 
 it not be well to consult with the Japanese? 
 Wanto was a practical man. Well, he'd think 
 it over. 
 
 For the next few minutes he studied Wanto. 
 What a faithful fellow he was! Crane thought 
 of the day before, when it had become necessary 
 to take Charley Deane down into Honolulu's 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 317 
 
 commercial quarter, where the transfer of shares 
 might be ratified and recorded. The problem had 
 arisen, how to prevent Deane from calling for 
 help and explaining the situation, as soon as he 
 should find himself among friends. The Japanese 
 had solved the problem by volunteering as guard. 
 With a cane-knife concealed beneath his coat, 
 Wanto would walk, a thunder-cloud in bronze, by 
 the side of the treasurer. No danger of Deane's 
 becoming rebellious, so long as the "yellow peril" 
 gripped him. 
 
 Crane had argued with the Japanese that he 
 might lose his life in the venture. "And you love 
 life, Wanto, as well as any of us," he had said. 
 
 "What of that?" Wanto had answered. "Is it 
 not far nobler to die a hero, bravely fighting in 
 defense of my rights, than to crawl to a dishonor- 
 able end?" 
 
 Crane had smiled, but the answer had reminded 
 him of Byron's pirates, who sang, 
 
 "Let him who crawls enamored of decay. 
 
 Cling to his couch and sicken years away; 
 
 Heave his thick breath and shake his palsied head; 
 
 Ours the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed. 
 
 While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul, 
 
 Ours with one pang — one bound — escapes control." 
 
 It was true that Byron's pirates were free- 
 booters, but they had been driven to it by the 
 world's injustice. Was not their leader a man 
 whose "heart was formed for softness, warped 
 to wrong?" It struck him that there was a strong 
 analogy between those wild adventurers and these 
 
318 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Japanese. But he wondered whether Wanto's 
 attitude had been inspired by faithfulness or by a 
 native bloodthirsty disposition and a dislike for 
 the treasurer. More likely the latter. 
 
 Well, whatever his motives, Wanto had played 
 his part most manfully. Nor had he neglected 
 appearances. He had begun by costuming him- 
 self for the occasion. Discarding his "business 
 suit," — the costume of the cane-fields, — he had 
 appeared in one of the president's blue serge suits, 
 which he had appropriated. The president's 
 Panama hat had covered Wanto's black hair. One 
 of the president's perfectos rested between his lips. 
 In his fingers he twirled a light bamboo cane. 
 
 Thus arrayed, he was scarcely recognizable. 
 But Deane knew that, all the while, a heavy cane- 
 knife lay concealed beneath that negligee shirt. 
 He knew why the fingers of Wanto's right hand 
 were tucked between the buttons. 
 
 However, Crane had felt no serious concern as 
 to the outcome of the day. He had had an oppor- 
 tunity to estimate the treasurer. There was no 
 danger of Deane's chancing an encounter with a 
 cane-knife. Had Frank Atten been in Deane's 
 place, the case would have been quite different. 
 But the treasurer would prefer to play a waiting 
 game. Wanto's mere presence was sufficient to 
 render him perfectly tractable. 
 
 So they had gone from office to office and from 
 bank to bank, where Crane had been made 
 acquainted with the business-world of Honolulu. 
 The news of the transfer of shares had been sown 
 broadcast. The former officers and manager had 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 319 
 
 relinquished their holdings and resigned their 
 positions, all "for value received." A new set of 
 officers would be chosen forthwith. Undoubtedly 
 the Californian would be the new president. 
 
 "Have you given up your cruise in Pearl Harbor, 
 Mr. Deane?" one of the members of the Cosmos 
 Club had inquired. 
 
 "Oh, I'm only in town for the day," the treasurer 
 had answered. "Don't be surprised if you don't 
 see me again for three weeks or more." 
 
 Right here the question might arise as to why 
 the failure of the party to board the yacht never 
 had been noticed. The boat, by Deane's direction, 
 had been anchored in one of the inlets of Pearl 
 Harbor, where it was to await the arrival of him- 
 self and party, who would come directly on 
 board on the night of their departure from the 
 Cosmos Club. The Chinese crew had obeyed their 
 orders literally. Their orders were to "wait," and 
 they waited. They waited three weeks, until their 
 supply of rice gave out. When cross-examined, 
 all that could be gotten from them was, "Boss, 
 him say boat wait here — by and by him clum 
 back. We wait." 
 
 Wanto, still wearing the president's clothing 
 and smoking one of the president's perfectos, was 
 swaggering about the garden. Some of his com- 
 rades were walking with him, twirling the bamboos 
 with which they inspired to activity "the men with 
 the hoes." Others were resting on the lawn, to 
 which they had dragged the costly rugs that had 
 covered the floor of the reception-hall. Magnificent 
 pelts of polar bear and tiger lay on the grass, and 
 
320 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 on those pelts the Japanese were lounging, their 
 heads pillowed on those of the animals. 
 
 Meanwhile, Crane continued to speculate as to 
 what might be done with the prisoners. The 
 president was working within ten feet of the 
 marble bench. The Californian watched him in 
 amusement for a moment. Then he said, 
 
 "Well, old man, now is an appropriate time for 
 you to do some philosophising — philosophising on 
 the dignity of labor. Don't you find that a flow 
 of perspiration promotes a flow of thought? Oh, 
 no, you needn't stop and straighten up your back. 
 Keep right on, or you'll feel the bamboo. The 
 *yellow-perir is right behind you." 
 
 But the Californian was tender-hearted. A 
 moment later he invited the president to a seat 
 beside him. 
 
 The old man dropped his hoe and hurried across 
 the ground to the shade of the breadfruit tree. 
 He sank into the opposite corner of the bench. 
 His chest was heaving, his face was flushed. He 
 mopped the streaming perspiration. 
 
 "My God," he groaned, and then again, "My 
 God!" 
 
 "Here, drink this," and Crane gave him a glass 
 of lemonade in which the ice floated and tinkled, — 
 although he knew perfectly that half of "Foxy 
 Grandpa's" distress was assumed for effect. 
 
 The president grasped the glass with trembling 
 fingers and gulped its contents in great draughts. 
 Then he brightened perceptibly. The cool drink 
 had refreshed him. 
 
 "I suppose you think yourself quite a martyr," 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 321 
 
 said Crane; "driven to toil beneath the sultry sun 
 of a tropical day. And yet the light work you 
 have been doing is nothing in comparison with 
 that done by the laborers in the cane-fields, 
 harvesting the sugar." 
 
 Miserable as he was, the president could not 
 keep from answering with an argument. 
 
 "TheyVe Orientals," he argued. "The work 
 doesn't affect them. But it is no sort of work for 
 a white man." 
 
 "Oh, Orientals are made of different stuff from 
 white men, are they? That argument has been 
 exploded too many times. Don't you know that 
 in Queensland all of the work of the cane-fields 
 is done by whites? Pshaw! it is a mere matter 
 of being accustomed to the work. Men of any 
 nationality can accustom themselves to it, if they 
 will." 
 
 "Well, it's torture to me." 
 
 "Torture! That sounds well, coming from you! 
 I should have imagined you would avoid that 
 topic. Have you forgotten the night in the palace? 
 I haven't. The idea of four sober and seemly 
 citizens of Honolulu, dragging their victims to 
 the depths of a subterranean dungeon, there to 
 inflict atrocious tortures! Were I to tell that 
 story in California, it would not be believed." 
 
 "You may never return to California to tell it." 
 
 "You think I'm not yet out of the woods." 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
 "That's as luck may turn. But I believe the 
 
 gods help those , you know. My philosophy of 
 
 life is to help myself. I either get what belongs 
 
322 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 to me, or I lose my life. I say with Shakespeare's 
 Clifford, 
 
 *I will not bandy you with word for word. 
 
 But buckle with you blows, twice two for one.' " 
 
 "What if you lose your life? You came very 
 near it." 
 
 "Then all my troubles are over, so far as this 
 world is concerned. I'll take my chance as regards 
 the next." 
 
 Crane was silent for a moment, and then con- 
 tinued, 
 
 "There's another reason why I may never 
 return to California. I may settle in Hawaii." 
 
 "A sultry tropical climate is intensely disagree- 
 able to many." 
 
 "It doesn't affect me. Quite the reverse. I'm 
 fairly fascinated by this country," and the Cali- 
 fomian let his mind ramble for a minute while 
 he recalled a bit of parody which he had written 
 one afternoon, when on his excursion to the cane- 
 fields of the west coast. 
 
 I want the islands, I want the sea, 
 
 I dream of the tropics and reefs of coral, 
 
 The woods of koa and camphor and laurel. 
 
 Where perfumes are borne on the trade-wind's wings, 
 
 As it sighs and surges and sweeps and sings; 
 
 The feathery palms and the cane-fields wide, 
 
 The dark green hills and the roaring tide, 
 
 And Honolulu. 
 
 He remembered how he had shown the lines 
 to Carding, who had suggested that he rhyme the 
 line ending in "coral" with, "Where the natives are 
 dusky and not very moral." It all passed through 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 323 
 
 his mind like a flash, and then the memory 
 reminded him of the reason why he had explored 
 the island, — to find a place where the prisoners 
 might be held safely. 
 
 The problem was still unsolved. Any day, their 
 presence in this spot might be discovered. He 
 might march them to the hills, but after his 
 experience at the bungalow, he had his doubts as 
 to whether there was a place sufficiently secluded 
 for his purpose in all the island. But — ah! — 
 "California" suggested an idea; might it not be 
 possible to transport them to the mainland? 
 California is as large as Oahu is small; plenty of 
 places in California where they might be hidden 
 and held. He would consult with Wanto. He 
 called the Japanese. 
 
 Wanto came, stepping gingerly across the pansy 
 beds, to take a seat on the marble bench by the 
 side of Crane. 
 
 "Well, Wanto," the Californian began, "IVe 
 been thinking it over. WeVe got to decide 
 immediately what to do with these men. Here we 
 have quite a band of prisoners on our hands — 
 five white men, twenty Koreans, and one 
 Hawaiian, the keeper of the dogs. We can't keep 
 them here much longer." 
 
 Wanto was grinning broadly, but it was because 
 his mind was wandering from the main subject. 
 Crane's reference to the dogs had recalled a 
 memory to his mind — a memory of a feast which 
 he and his comrades had enjoyed on the day after 
 the night in the palace. The dogs had been 
 barbecued in the most approved fashion, a fashion 
 
324 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 the Japanese had learned from the natives. They 
 looked back on the occasion as a red-letter day 
 in their lives. 
 
 "These men," Crane continued, "are cunning 
 and unscrupulous, and they were well intrenched. 
 So far, we have captured their intrenchments. 
 Now my plan is to hold them for a year, while I 
 am fortifying myself where they stood. At the 
 end of the year they'll be so delighted at the idea 
 of getting their liberty, they'll be willing to agree 
 to almost anything if we will only let them go. 
 And if they do try to make any trouble, their 
 day for accomplishing anything will have passed. 
 
 "I've been thinking it over, and I don't see any 
 safe way to hold them in this island. But, if we 
 could get them to California, I am sure we could 
 hold them there as long as we please. But we 
 can't march them down to the wharf and engage 
 passage for them in the steamship "Nevada." 
 Now, can you suggest a plan by which we might 
 get them to the mainland?" 
 
 "Japanese fishing-boat," Wanto answered. "A 
 big fishing-boat." 
 
 "I don't know," Crane demurred. "You remem- 
 ber that gale we had about a week ago. After 
 the gale, five Japanese fishing-boats failed to come 
 back." 
 
 "Yes, but they were small, two-men boats. The 
 big boats came in. They can weather anything. 
 And we'll need a big boat, to carry such a party 
 as ours — twenty-six prisoners and fifteen Japanese, 
 forty-one men in all." 
 
 "And there will be the crew besides." 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 325 
 
 "Oh, I and my men can act as crew. Some of 
 us are old fishermen." 
 
 "Then make arrangements to purchase a boat 
 to-day." 
 
 Events were shaping out better than the 
 Californian would have imagined. 
 
 "Good enough," he continued. "The business 
 ought to be easily managed. I can travel by 
 steamer and arrange in California for your landing. 
 But after you have landed " 
 
 "Why, when we get to California," Wanto 
 answered, "we can go to my brother's farm. He 
 has a big place and he needs workmen. We 
 could march our prisoners across country to his 
 home. There we could hold them for a year 
 and make them earn their keep. There would be 
 no danger of their being discovered, for Japanese 
 farmers are not popular in California. No Amer- 
 icans would intrude on his place. It would be as 
 secluded as if it were a corner of Old Japan." 
 
 "Better and better," Crane replied; "I know 
 something about Japanese potato-farms," and he 
 closed his eyes while he speculated on the details 
 of the enterprise. 
 
 Before his mind's eye there stretched a flat and 
 featureless landscape, the central valley of Cali- 
 fornia. He saw the black, fertile earth, cultivated 
 into the mile-long ridges and furrows of a potato- 
 farm, the ridges covered with the green vines. 
 And in those fields he could see a group of 
 swarthy Oriental laborers, among whom were 
 herded the president and his associates, dressed 
 in cheap blue cotton and covered with immense 
 
326 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 mushroom hats. There they toiled, armed with 
 heavy two-pronged hoes and driven to work by 
 the rest of the gang, with whom they were 
 compelled to keep pace. Slaves on a Japanese 
 potato-farm! The idea was ridiculous — and tragic, 
 too. 
 
 But the program impressed Wanto as altogether 
 too merciful. 
 
 "Why take all this trouble?" he asked. "Why 
 not give them Happy Despatch, and be done with 
 them?" 
 
 "Wanto, you're only half civilized," Crane 
 answered, "To murder men is a crime. But to 
 deprive them of what doesn't belong to them, and 
 to humanize them, that's different. That's justice 
 and benevolence." 
 
 Why, on second thought, a year of hard work 
 would probably leave them fit as football players. 
 They'd be all the better for it, in every way. And 
 — another point — if, after their release, they were 
 to tell the truth about their experience and try 
 to enlist sympathy, they would only render them- 
 selves objects of ridicule. Slaves on a potato-farm 
 for a year! How Honolulu would roar with 
 laughter, for we have already intimated that the 
 officers and manager of the X Sugar Company 
 were not popular. Their methods were considered 
 obsolete. 
 
 The president had listened with a studied air 
 of stony resignation to the cool discussion of his 
 fate. Crane watched him with amusement. Mentally 
 he contrasted the president's former state with 
 that which was coming. No longer would 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 327 
 
 he be king of the Cosmos Club, where he 
 might philosophise at his leisure and say the 
 latest word on contemporary literature. No 
 longer would he discuss poetry and popular novels 
 within the club's cool, shaded precincts; at least, 
 not until a year had passed. A slave on a potato- 
 farm, herded in a bunk-house, toiling all day 
 beneath a sun which sent the mercury above the 
 hundred mark, how his memory would turn back 
 to Honolulu, where he had been carried in his 
 limousine from his Manoa valley home to his club, 
 or to the beach at Waikiki *'where the surf rolls 
 in!" 
 
 And there was Charley Deane. How he would 
 recall the hours he had spent loitering on the 
 pier of the Hawaiian Yacht Club, idly watching 
 the ripple of the trade-wind on the water blurring 
 the reflection of the cloud-flecked blue of the sky, 
 or letting his gaze wander to steep volcanic 
 heights where they rose in the distance, clothed 
 with all their exuberance of tropical verdure, and 
 capped with clouds where rainbows played! 
 
 So it would be with the rest of them — they 
 must give up their clubs and yachts and limousines 
 and luxurious homes, and come down to "the 
 simple life." But would their condition be any 
 worse than that of a man in war-time, compelled to 
 serve in the trenches? On the contrary, it would 
 be a thousand times better. 
 
 "You see, Mr. President," he said, "your argu- 
 ment that farming is no sort or kind 
 of work for a white man, is coming 
 back like a boomerang to you. We'll make 
 
328 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 farmers out of you and your associates. You'll 
 have a chance to try, for a year at least, what you 
 relegate to Orientals. Perhaps the experience will 
 humanize you. 
 
 "And it seems to me that you are escaping 
 easily enough. You must have expected, after 
 that night in the Capitol, that we would fairly 
 skin you alive. I'll admit the boys did get a 
 little rough with the Koreans. But there was a 
 great teacher once, who said, *Do good to those 
 who persecute you,' and that is precisely what I 
 propose to do. However,, I do not intend to 
 interpret that commandment in a spirit of namby- 
 pamby mawkishness, for I don't believe that the 
 man who took a whip of knotted cords and drove 
 the money-changers from the temple, meant it 
 in any such a spirit. I propose to do good to 
 you by making good men out of you. I've decided 
 to reform you, to humanize you, or at least to 
 make an attempt in that direction." 
 
 And summoning the rest of the prisoners. Crane 
 explained his plan — the year of captivity while he 
 should be engaged in fortifying himself in their 
 intrenchments ; a year which they would spend in 
 California as workmen on a Japanese farm. The 
 first feature on the program would be their ship- 
 ment to California by Japanese fishing-boat. 
 
 "You will hardly find the quarters in that boat 
 as commodious as those in the Cosmos Club," he 
 said. "But you'll have an opportunity to acquire 
 a new outlook on life. And, so long as the voyage 
 lasts, you'll have plenty of leisure — plenty of time 
 on your hands, an opportunity to recuperate for 
 
BENEATH THE BREADFRUIT 329 
 
 what is coming. Such a voyage should furnish 
 you a rich fund of impressions, Mr. President, to 
 use later in literary work. Why, you may even 
 have a chance to perch yourself on the gunwale, 
 note-book in hand, and write reviews of popular 
 novels, — Jack London's, for instance.'* 
 
 Then for a minute the president and the 
 Calif ornian sat in silence, while they reflected. 
 The same picture limned itself in the mind of 
 each; a broad, blunt fishing-boat, of Oriental 
 pattern, manned by a crew of swarthy Japanese. 
 Driven by its clumsy square sail, it bobbed and 
 dipped on the bright blue waves. And in the 
 boat were the five "malefactors." And there were 
 the twenty Koreans, their pale yellow faces made 
 paler yet by seasickness. Japanese, Koreans and 
 whites, all were huddled together, a strange crew 
 in a strange boat, voyaging across the broad spaces 
 of the Pacific ocean, beneath a wide blue sky where 
 rode the scattered trade-wind clouds like puffs 
 of smoke. 
 
 To the president that picture seemed an appalling 
 thing, a companion-piece to a celebrated painting 
 he remembered — a painting of "The Boat of Don 
 Juan." 
 
XXIV 
 
 KOKO HEAD 
 
 THE golden rays of the sun were flashing 
 between vermilion clouds, as Crane watched 
 the sunset from the end of a pier which 
 projected into Honolulu harbor. Beyond the reef 
 and over an ocean that stretched to China and 
 Japan his eye had clear sweep. The setting sun 
 had painted the evening sky a blaze of scarlet and 
 gold, below which the sea lay blue and green. 
 Like a massive disk of molten gold, the sun hung 
 where its edge almost touched the horizon; 
 the sky around it was as yellow as a California 
 poppy. Then the great glowing disk slowly dissolved 
 in the ocean, when the colors disappeared with 
 miraculous suddenness, the low clouds turning 
 an ashen gray. Tropical sunsets are transient 
 affairs; their colors fade as quickly as they come. 
 But Crane was there with another object than 
 to view the sunset. He had come to consult 
 with Captain Coburn ; but the captain was detained 
 at the Agamemnon's gangplank, and the Californ- 
 ian must wait. He lingered in a meditative mood, 
 for everything was conducive to meditation. The 
 harbor was very quiet . The day's work was done. 
 The rumble of machinery, the fussing of tow- 
 boats, the screaming of steam-whistles, had died 
 away. 
 
KOKO HEAD 331 
 
 He watched the ripple of the trade-wind on the 
 water. As he watched it, it led him to think 
 how essential water is to life. He remembered 
 that water constitutes about eighty per cent of a 
 man's weight, and that led him to think of 
 About's "Man with the Broken Ear," who was 
 taken while in a trance, dried in an oven, and 
 then filed away for future reference, to be put 
 in the bath-tub fifty years later and resuscitated 
 as good as new. 
 
 But it occurred to Crane that the water of the 
 ocean is salt, and therefore unsuitable to support 
 human life; and yet, he thought, salt is a part 
 of our food. In other words, a little salt is good, 
 too much of it is poison. This led him to think 
 of running water as a source of power, turning 
 the wheels of mills, or spinning turbines far up 
 in the mountains, whence the power is transmitted 
 by electric wires from mountains to metropolis. 
 And in his mind he turned back to California, 
 remembering those long lines of grim, black 
 skeleton towers which march across the country 
 to carry electric power from far streams, high in 
 the Sierras, to the communities on the shores of 
 San Francisco bay. 
 
 "Are you dreaming of California?" 
 
 "I was doing that very thing," and Crane 
 turned to see captain Coburn standing behind him. 
 "California is a burning question with me, just 
 at present. We have decided that our only 
 course is to transfer our prisoners to the Pacific 
 coast, and the problem is. How to do it? At 
 
332 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 present it seems as though we must charter a 
 Japanese fishing-boat." 
 
 From this the captain concluded that Crane 
 was not aware of the latest developments in regard 
 to the Agamemnon. While the Califomian had 
 been living in Manoa valley, things had been 
 happening in Honolulu harbor. (Pardon me. 
 Perhaps I should say, "Events had been transpir- 
 ing.") The steamship Matsonia had been in a 
 collision with a "ram-you-damn-you liner with a 
 brace of bucking screws." (Pardon again.) The 
 Matsonia was now in the hands of the Honolulu 
 Iron Works for repairs, and the sugar which the 
 Matsonia was to have carried to the mainland, 
 lay waiting. The Agamemnon had been chartered 
 in a hurry to carry the cargo. Consequently, on 
 this trip, the Agamemnon would sail to San 
 Francisco instead of to New York. 
 
 Captain Coburn conveyed this information in a 
 few terse sentences. 
 
 "We're bound to San Francisco, this voyage," 
 he concluded. "There we load barley for Liver- 
 pool." 
 
 Obviously the captain thought no more of two 
 thousand miles to the Pacific coast, and of 
 eighteen thousand miles around Cape Horn, than 
 he did of eating a dish of Hawaiian pineapple. 
 
 Then, as became a man of few words and quick 
 action, he pointed out the possibility of the 
 prisoners being shipped by the Agamemnon. 
 
 "Good word, captain," Crane exulted. "This 
 will make another time you have come to the 
 rescue. But how will we manage it? We can't 
 
KOKO HEAD 333 
 
 march them down to Borneo pier and put them 
 on board." 
 
 "Just load them into your Japanese fishing- 
 boat, and have the boat off Diamond Head when 
 we pass the point, outward bound. We'll pick 
 them up." 
 
 Diamond Head! Crane had been under the 
 impression that sailing-ships, bound from Honolulu 
 to the mainland, ran to leeward and circled the 
 western coast of the island. Would the captain 
 explain? 
 
 "Most of them do," he admitted. "But the 
 Agamemnon will steer for Diamond Head and 
 buck through the channel, short tacks to wind- 
 ward." 
 
 "But, when you get to California, how about 
 landing them? You will not be able to take 
 them to the wharf at San Francisco." 
 
 "We'll not take them into the harbor. We'll 
 let them go ashore at Drake's bay." 
 
 "But that will delay the ship." 
 
 "About five minutes. We'll let them use the 
 quarter-boats. It will delay us no longer than it 
 takes us to lower the boats." 
 
 "But suppose a gale of wind is blowing. Now 
 is the season for northwesters." 
 
 "The Agamemnon's boats are life-boats, non- 
 capsizable and fitted with air-chambers." 
 
 Crane regarded the captain with increasing 
 respect. It appeared that that resourceful seaman 
 was equal to any emergency. 
 
 "If he had managed this affair of mine," thought 
 Crane, "there would not have been so many 
 
334 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 mistakes made." And then there recurred to him 
 a question which had already arisen in his mind 
 many times, — why did captain Coburn take so 
 strong an interest in this affair? Why was he 
 always ready to lend a helping hand? 
 
 "Pardon my curiosity, captain," said Crane. 
 "While I'm tremendously thankful for your help, 
 I can't help wondering why it is that you are 
 always ready to help me." 
 
 "I guess you've forgotten a remark I made 
 when first I met you on the hill. I said that you 
 and I have a common ground of complaint 
 against certain parties. I'm one of the minority 
 stockholders." 
 
 "You are? Then what a fool I was not to know 
 it!!" 
 
 "Oh, we're all guilty of oversights. Yes, I put 
 a thousand dollars into their stock, and I want 
 to get something out of it; something more than 
 a chance to sell out at fifty cents on the dollar. 
 However, that isn't the only reason I'm behind 
 you. Your methods struck my fancy, and I believe 
 I said as much. And when I undertake to help 
 anyone, I go my whole length." 
 
 "And I assure you that I appreciate it, captain. 
 But, pardon me another question. How did it 
 happen that you came to be in the Capitol that 
 night when you rescued me?" 
 
 "I was looking for you." 
 
 "Looking for me !" 
 
 "Yes. I was in the city that morning, on ship's 
 business. In fact, I've spent very little time in 
 the bungalow. I thought I was going to get a 
 
KOKO HEAD 335 
 
 vacation, but it hasn't turned out that way. Well, 
 as I said, I was here on ship's business, and I 
 heard that the manager of the X plantation had 
 been pursuing someone over the hills, the day 
 before. They said he was using the wolf-hounds. 
 That told me all I needed to know, and I started 
 right out to find you and see that you got fair 
 play, if I could accomplish it." 
 
 "You certainly turned the tables." 
 
 They went on to discuss the present situation of 
 the prisoners and the proposed embarkation off 
 Diamond Head. 
 
 "One suggestion from me, captain," said Crane. 
 "Our present plan is for our fishing-boat to meet 
 the Agamemnon at sea. We have already bought 
 the boat. Would it not be possible for you to 
 pick it up when it comes alongside? sling it 
 aboard with tackles fastened to the ship's main 
 and mizzen yard-arms. Then, when we reach the 
 Pacific coast, we'll not need to borrow your 
 quarter-boats. Whereas, if we abandon our boat 
 off Diamond Head, and let it drift ashore, that 
 very thing may lead to suspicion and inquiry." 
 
 "That's a good suggestion, Mr. Crane. I'll act 
 on it." 
 
 "And another suggestion, captain, while I have 
 my hand in. I imagine I know a better place to 
 come aboard than off Diamond Head. The place 
 I have in mind is near the southeastern end of 
 the island, where lies a long, narrow point, running 
 out into the sea. It is known as " 
 
 "Koko Head." 
 
 "Precisely. It consists of a line of craters 
 
336 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 which must have burst up through the reef, and 
 the seaward face of one of those craters has been 
 breached by the waves. The semi-circle which is 
 left, forms a little bay, and on the shore of that 
 bay there stands " 
 
 "A club-house." 
 
 "Yes. But I understand that that club-house 
 has been abandoned. Now, would it not be wise 
 to bring our fishing-boat around to that bay, and 
 embark our prisoners there. From that point we 
 could sail out to meet you. That part of the 
 island is very secluded. Off Koko Head we should 
 be much less liable to observation than if we 
 boarded the Agamemnon off Diamond Head." 
 
 "All right. Koko Head goes." 
 
 They walked up the wharf together, and were 
 about to go their separate ways, when Coburn 
 detained the Californian with the words, 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Crane. The day after you saw me at 
 the bungalow, you sent me a man — a Kanaka." 
 
 "Yes. Was he any use?" 
 
 "Why, they put him to work, and the boss- 
 stevedore tells me he worked very well until the 
 first pay-day. Then he disappeared. The other 
 hands thought he was a little off, — always mutter- 
 ing about somebody who had ill-used him." 
 
 "Well, he said he wanted work, and I wanted 
 him to have a chance. But I guess he's like a 
 lot of these natives, once the gin gets its grip 
 on them. As soon as they earn a little money, 
 they drink it up," and Crane and the captain 
 bade each other "Good night." They would keep 
 in touch until the day of sailing — a date which 
 
KOKO HEAD 337 
 
 is always an uncertain quantity when a wind- 
 jammer is concerned. 
 
 Now commenced days of bustle and preparation 
 behind the triple line of cocoa-palms in Manoa 
 valley. And meanwhile, the Agamemnon was being 
 given the quickest of "quick dispatch." The 
 heavy brown sacks of sugar went pouring into 
 the enormous hold. Three days later Crane was 
 told by the captain, "We sail day after to-morrow, 
 early in the morning." 
 
 That night the president's motor-car was in 
 request once more. All night it was busy trans- 
 porting the Japanese and their prisoners and their 
 camp equipment, installment by installment, from 
 Manoa valley to the southeastern end of the island. 
 But they were not taken direct to the volcanic 
 bay at Koko Head. No machine could run over 
 the narrow trail which climbed those craters. 
 For the time being, they were taken within a little 
 valley, or deep ravine, which burrowed into the 
 hills. Crane remembered it well, for the ridge on 
 its eastern side was the very one where ran the 
 trail he had descended on the day of his "capture." 
 There, within a group of trees, the camp of the 
 Japanese was pitched. Within it, the prisoners, 
 securely handcuffed and bound, were guarded. 
 They snatched a few hours' sleep. Then, after a 
 hurried breakfast. Crane started with the majority 
 of the Japanese for Koko Head. One man was 
 left to oversee the captives and prevent any 
 attempt at escape. 
 
 Two hours before noon they were climbing the 
 volcanic slopes of Koko Head, where they would 
 
338 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 meet Wanto and the rest of their party, who had 
 been commissioned to bring the fishing-boat from 
 Honolulu. Once in touch with Wanto and their 
 effects safely on board the craft, they would 
 return to the camp. On the following night they 
 would transfer the prisoners to the boat. After 
 that nothing would remain but to wait until the 
 Agamemnon appeared around the point, when 
 they would run out before the trade-wind, meet 
 the square-rigger, and be hoisted on board. Then, 
 Ho! for California. 
 
 They came to the top of the trail, where they 
 stood on the verge of a cliff perhaps three hundred 
 feet high, and looked down into the little bay 
 that filled the broken crater. The inner wall rose 
 in cliffs built of layers of volcanic rock which 
 made the margin of the haven, surrounding nearly 
 three quarters of a circle. The rocks were of a 
 dark red color, formed from half molten lava and 
 cinders fused together and hardened into stone. 
 What a story they told of volcanic fires! The 
 place was so wild, so lonely, and so eloquent of 
 primitive forces and a land in the making, that 
 it seemed almost incredible that it lay only a few 
 miles from a modern city. But close by the shore 
 they saw the fishing-boat lying at anchor, its sails 
 hauled down. Wanto and his boat were on hand 
 as per schedule. It only remained to find the 
 trail down the cliff. 
 
 It was a narrow, break-neck track, guarded in 
 places with chains; in places steps had been cut. 
 But it led down the only practicable place, and at 
 its foot stood the abandoned club-house — a low 
 
KOKO HEAD 339 
 
 frame cottage, painted white, with a wide verandah 
 facing the sea. Wanto and his men sat on the 
 verandah, smoking their perpetual cigarettes. 
 
 There ensued a discussion and minute criticism 
 of the boat. Into its lockers were packed the 
 effects brought from Manoa valley. By the time 
 the party was ready to return to the camp, a 
 glance at the sun convinced them that the hour 
 was nearly noon. Why not eat lunch before 
 starting? 
 
 Wanto had a supply of provisions. A meal was 
 cooked and eaten. Then followed an hour's rest 
 in the shade of the club-house verandah. While 
 they rested, a program for the night was arranged. 
 
 And to-morrow! As the Califomian thought of 
 it, he walked to the margin of the little bay and 
 looked out to sea. To-morrow they would watch 
 the great four-master skimming over those blue 
 waves, "bucking through the channel, short tacks 
 to windward." To-morrow would behold them 
 standing on the long steel deck beneath the 
 white pyramids of sail. To-morrow they would 
 see the volcanic peaks of Oahu sink beneath the 
 blue horizon. 
 
 Crane and his party turned back to the camp. 
 While they had no doubt that all was well there, 
 they began to be in a nervous hurry to return 
 and make sure. 
 
 They crossed the heights of Koko Head, and 
 descended to a causeway leading over a shallow 
 arm of the sea; they reached the highway. This 
 they followed to a point where a trail turned into 
 the valley where the camp had been pitched. 
 
340 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 They stopped in the road for a moment, to 
 drink from the canteens carried by two of their 
 party. From where they stood they could not see 
 the camp. Heavy algeroba trees and guava scrub 
 were round it, concealing its presence from the 
 outside world. But, while they waited, some of 
 the party were glancing carelessly up the valley, 
 in the direction of the camp. Suddenly they 
 shaded their eyes with their hands and commenced 
 an excited chatter. 
 
 The chatter rose to a yell. Crane dropped his 
 canteen and turned to stare in the direction in 
 which the Japanese were pointing. A line of men 
 caught his attention; the men were climbing the 
 valley-wall, which at that point was low. 
 
 Crane lifted his marine-glass. In its poweful 
 lenses the hill-climbers were only a hundred feet 
 away. Certainly most of them were Asiatics. 
 But at the head of the line ran five white men, 
 made conspicuous by their soiled suits of white 
 duck. One of them was tall and stout; another 
 was short, with silvery whiskers. 
 
 The prisoners were loose ! ! Crane counted them 
 — twenty-seven men. Then the guard must have 
 turned traitor! 
 
XXV 
 
 THE CLIFF 
 
 WO ^^^^ ^^^^^ *^"^' boys," Crane shouted. "It's 
 
 K^ life or death for us." 
 
 The plan of the runaways was apparent. 
 They could not escape from the valley to the 
 main highway — the Honolulu road, — for the Cali- 
 fornian and his party were already at the entrance 
 to the valley. But they could climb the hills by 
 the trail which Crane had descended on the day 
 of his "capture." By retracing his track, they 
 could escape to the W plantation. 
 
 They could do it, if they were not captured 
 first. That was the only thing which could save 
 Crane and his men. All broke into a run as they 
 dashed in pursuit. They must necessarily skirt 
 the camp. As they passed it, they saw the remains 
 of the Japanese guard. The Koreans had accounted 
 for him. 
 
 Then who was the twenty-seventh man? No 
 time to puzzle over that problem. Up the trail 
 they went, gaining, gaining, all the while, for 
 the fugitives were soft and in poor condition for 
 hill-climbing. 
 
 The distance to the summit was not great. As 
 the range had fallen off in altitude, it had grown 
 narrow. Whereas behind Honolulu the distance 
 by trail to the top was five or six miles, here it 
 
342 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 was only two. The runaways were a scant hundred 
 yards ahead when they reached the summit. They 
 disappeared over the crest. The Japanese came 
 panting in pursuit. They scrambled up the stony 
 trail, and when they gained the summit ran across 
 the black volcanic rocks and peered down to 
 the plain below. Two thousand feet beneath them 
 they saw the shadow of the great cliff, stretching 
 jagged and gigantic across the fields of cane. The 
 shadows were long, for the afternoon was far 
 advanced. Immediately below the faces of the 
 party, as they rested on hands and knees on the 
 outermost verge of rock, there was a short slope, 
 inclining to the left. This was the first stage of 
 the trail. At the end of a hundred feet it 
 apparently broke off to fall over a precipice; but 
 Crane knew that it zig-zagged from channel to 
 channel, keeping its grip on the front of the 
 mountain-wall in some miraculous fashion. 
 
 Well, if the runaways could descend, so could 
 their pursuers. But before venturing down that 
 dizzy trail, they stopped to stretch short lengths 
 of cord from man to man. Now they must 
 descend. "All ready," and they balanced on the 
 verge of the cliff for a moment, before trusting 
 their limbs and lives to the break-neck track 
 below them. 
 
 At that very moment a movement at the end 
 of the "hundred feet of trail" caught Crane's eye. 
 A battered straw hat, minus a crown, appeared 
 above the rocks. Its owner scrambled into view. 
 They recognized the Hawaiian beggar. 
 
 So he was the twenty-seventh man! And had 
 
THE CLIFF 343 
 
 all of the runaways lost their nerve? Were they 
 returning rather than risk the descent? 
 
 But no one followed the Hawaiian. Slowly and 
 shame-facedly he climbed to the place where 
 Crane and his party were standing. He appeared 
 to be under an intense nervous strain. Although 
 they questioned him closely, his account was so 
 disconnected as to be barely intelligible. And in 
 his excitement he could express himself only in 
 his native tongue, which the Japanese understood 
 but poorly. 
 
 They paused to hear the Hawaiian's story. 
 What a scene and what a setting! For a stage 
 there was the summit of that huge volcanic rock 
 in mid-ocean — a narrow rock-platform, barely a 
 dozen feet in width. On one side stood the group 
 of Japanese, fingering their cane-knives. Before 
 them the Hawaiian balanced on the edge of the 
 precipice. Behind him spread the stupendous 
 panorama of cane-fields and sandy shore and coral 
 reef and distant, dark blue ocean, sparkling 
 beneath the trade-wind. There stood the man, his 
 rags fluttering in the gentle wind, while he half 
 shouted a torrent of his native Hawaiian. 
 
 He stood facing the west, where the sun, almost 
 on the point of setting, hovered above the rim of 
 the world. Its level rays glared on his face. With 
 waving arms, his eyes rolling, he was pointing, 
 to the rocks, to the precipice, and behind him to 
 the plain below. He was telling how he had 
 wandered into the camp, where his services had 
 been impressed as a guide over the old native 
 trail. He was saying that, in trying to guide the 
 
344 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 party down the cliff, he "had made a mistake/* 
 The result had been that the president and his 
 party had fallen over a cliff a thousand feet high. 
 That much was certain. But how the mistake 
 had occurred was not at all clear. And how 
 the prisoners had got loose, the man did not know. 
 
 Crane had his own opinion as to how the 
 mistake had happened, but it was not for him to 
 accuse the man. A few of the Japanese were 
 sent down the trail with the Hawaiian to confirm 
 what he said. They descended to the point 
 where he claimed the party had gone over the 
 cliff, and came back, corroborating his story. 
 
 "Then the next thing to do,'' said Crane, "is 
 to report the accident to the high sheriff of 
 Hawaii," and he turned to the Hawaiian. 
 
 "You must make the report. Our work is done. 
 But, Wanto, take this man to Honolulu and see 
 that he reports to the high sheriff, and see that 
 he doesn't report too much. However, there is 
 no real danger from him. He knows very little." 
 
 For a moment Wanto was inclined to demur. 
 
 "Oh, it's all right," said Crane. "We had 
 nothing to do with this accident. We were not 
 with the runaways when it occurred. As the 
 situation now stands, we are absolved from all 
 responsibility." 
 
 Wanto called one of his men. Between them 
 they hurried the Hawaiian down the trail to the 
 Honolulu road. To be brief, the man made his 
 report to the high sheriff, was detained for a 
 few days as a witness, and then released. 
 
 After Wanto had gone, Crane delayed on the 
 
THE CLIFF 345 
 
 hill for a few minutes, resting there on the volcanic 
 rocks. 
 
 "Our work is over," he repeated. Then he 
 asked the Japanese whether they still wished to 
 go to California. They assured him that they did. 
 
 "Then you will sail in the Agamemnon," he 
 answered. "You will carry out the program we 
 arranged, except that there will be no prisoners 
 to g^ard. 
 
 He himself would return to the city, where he 
 would take passage in the next steamer for the 
 mainland. Still he delayed, while he thought of 
 the "prisoners." 
 
 He thought of them all: the president, with his 
 fondness for philosophising; Frank Atten, with 
 his expansive waist-measure and his genial smile; 
 Charley Deane, the immaculate; the manager, 
 with his ability to drive; Carding, a promising 
 young fellow, in spite of his occasional boyish 
 blunders. All of them had possessed qualities 
 which placed them well above the average. All 
 of them had belonged to the "responsible citizen" 
 class. And yet all had perished miserably, and 
 at the hands of a beggar. What was the reason? 
 What common failing did they possess, which had 
 led them on to their own destruction. 
 
 The answer was easy. Selfishness, greed, 
 grasping shortsightedness, the desire to exploit 
 their fellow-men rather than to serve and to 
 create; methods which succeed only when 
 employed against those who have not the courage 
 to resent them. 
 
 They had gotten the money of the California 
 
346 THE FLAMINGOES NEST 
 
 stockholders; that is, the money had put them 
 in possession of a magnificent piece of property; 
 and they had proposed to repay the Californians 
 by giving them a chance to sell out for half the 
 sum they had invested. As a result, the Californ- 
 ians had taken the plantation from them. 
 
 They had defrauded the Japanese of one day's 
 pay, and had put them on the blacklist, and by 
 so doing had driven the Japanese desperate, until 
 they were ready for any enterprise. 
 
 They had defrauded captain Coburn, but the 
 result had been that at the two critical moments 
 when it seemed as though they had the 
 Californians and the Japanese beaten, Coburn had 
 put them back. 
 
 And finally, wnen through Crane's over-confi- 
 dence and his carelessness in leaving them 
 inadequately guarded, they had won their liberty 
 and a last chance to turn the tables for good and 
 all, they had lost their lives through the very man 
 whom they had made a beggar and a butt. And 
 they had lost their lives because they had made 
 him a beggar and a butt. 
 
 So Crane reviewed the situation in his mind, 
 and as he did so, he thought with contempt of 
 those who hold that "virtue is its own reward," 
 and that chicanery is the only thing that pays. 
 
 Now the sun, like a broad red target, touched 
 the rim of the western horizon. As Crane 
 prepared to descend the hill, he thought of the 
 day when he had watched Sherrill's aeroplane 
 from those very heights. 
 
THE CLIFF 347 
 
 "I'll have quite a story to tell the lieutenant," 
 he thought, and he wondered absently what the 
 lieutenant was doing. 
 
 As a matter of fact, at that moment the officer 
 was closely engaged with very important business, 
 the particulars of which "will follow immediately." 
 
XXVI 
 
 MARJORIE BURL 
 
 BELOW the walls of Diamond Head, and about 
 four miles from Honolulu harbor, there lies 
 a public park. The steep red sides of the 
 crater overlook the lawns and lakes and winding 
 avenues where peacocks spread their plumes and 
 scream beneath the trees. And near that park 
 there is a wonderful aquarium, which is reckoned 
 as one of the sights of the city. 
 
 It is a cave-like place. Within it a deep twilight 
 reigns. The light filters through the tanks in 
 which the fish are swimming — the gorgeous fish 
 of the tropics, sky-blue and rose and salmon-pink, 
 while others display their zebra stripes of black 
 and yellow. Their colors are gorgeous, their 
 forms are fantastic, their tone is the exotic tone 
 of the torrid zone. 
 
 It was to this aquarium that Miss Burl and her 
 brother came on the afternoon of that day. And 
 there it was that lieutenant Sherrill came, not five 
 minutes after their arrival. Possibly, on the 
 evening before, the young lady may have hinted 
 her plans. Never, in the lieutenant's opinion, 
 would it do for her to visit a place so near Fort 
 Ruger without a guide. And there was a question 
 which his wished to ask. 
 
MARJORIE BURL 349 
 
 The lieutenant did not wear his white uniform, 
 with its glittering shoulder-straps and braid, of 
 the night in the palace. Fresh from aeroplane 
 practice, he was in khaki. 
 
 Side by side, he and Marjorie Burl made the 
 rounds of the dim halls. But the young lady's 
 enjoyment was marred a little by the fact that 
 there were no chairs in the aquarium. 
 
 "There is a rest-house in the park," the lieu- 
 tenant told her; "let me take you there. It's not 
 five minute's walk from here. Later in the after- 
 noon the regiment will be on dress-parade in the 
 aviation-field. Perhaps you will enjoy seeing that." 
 
 They walked across the road and into the park, 
 to where the rest-house stood beneath a group of 
 banyan trees. And there they rested in a pair of 
 deep wicker chairs. 
 
 One side of the room was a great arched 
 window rising from the floor, its glass panels 
 swinging on hinges out over a balcony. Flung 
 wide open, it afforded a view down an avenue 
 bordered by algeroba trees — the trees leading for 
 a hundred yards to the margin of a little lake, 
 where a grove of cocoa-palms grew on the edge 
 of the water. Avenue and water and palms and 
 bright blue sky, foam-flecked with feathery clouds, 
 blended into a single harmonious effect. Its frame 
 was the arch of the window. 
 
 For a while they lingered in the tea-room, 
 admiring the perfect picture before them. Then 
 they rose and walked down the avenue until they 
 stood on the margin of the water. The little lake 
 was very small, no larger than a pond. Lilies 
 
350 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 by hundreds slept on its surface. From the 
 opposite shore, where the cocoa-palms waved their 
 graceful fronds in the fragrant air, a marble 
 summer-house gleamed at them out of the shade. 
 
 Marjorie Burl and the officer circled the lily- 
 pond and entered the summer-house. Semi- 
 circular in shape, it was wide open in front, with 
 a floor of blue tiles and a wall in eight panels, 
 and from those panels the roof sloped upward 
 to a point. Each panel was white marble — marble 
 through which there drifted green streaks and 
 veins. A great splash of color was lent by a 
 crimson velvet pillow where it lay on the deep 
 leather cushion that covered a low stone bench. 
 
 Marjorie Burl took a place on the low stone 
 bench. She made a lovely picture, — try to image 
 it; the tall girl, all white, with a light blue 
 ribbon around her blond hair, sitting on the yellow 
 leather cushion before a background of green- 
 veined marble. On her left arm she carried a 
 bouquet of red rosebuds, glowing in a profusion 
 of green leaves. In her right hand she held a book 
 of verse. 
 
 "May I ask whose verses you have been 
 reading?" the lieutenant inquired. 
 
 "They are John Masefield's," she replied. "Some 
 of his lines have simply fascinated me, they are 
 so very appropriate to these islands. Here he 
 gives a picture of a ship arriving in port, a great 
 ship which has stormed around Cape Horn, 
 
 "To come after long months, at rosy dawn, 
 Into the placid blue of some smooth bay. 
 Treading the quiet water like a fawn 
 
MARJORIE BURL 351 
 
 Ere yet the morning haze was blown away, 
 A rose-flushed figure, putting aside the gray. 
 And anchoring there before the city smoke 
 Rose, or the church-bells rang or men awoke." 
 
 She was reading with such a captivating play 
 of rosy lips and white teeth and sparkling gray 
 eyes, he found her face a more fascinating study 
 than any verse. She continued, 
 
 "And then in the first light to see grow clear 
 That long-expected haven, filled with strangers. 
 Alive with men and women; see and hear 
 Its clattering market and its money-changers; 
 And hear the surf beat and be free from dangers. 
 And watch the crinkled ocean blue with calm 
 Drowsing beneath the Trade, beneath the palm." 
 
 "He surely must have had Honolulu harbor in 
 mind when he wrote that," said Sherrill. 
 
 The lieutenant had remained standing while 
 she read, perhaps because it gave him a better 
 opportunity to watch her. How he loved to 
 study the smooth oval of her face and her rounded 
 chin! Could any artist shape curves more lovely? 
 He was sure it would be impossible. 
 
 Could their surroundings have been more 
 romantic? From the neighboring shore there 
 drifted toward them a low rumble, the roll of 
 the surf on the reef. Otherwise, the soft rustling 
 of palm-branches was the only sound that reached 
 the ear. All around them the fragrance of vanilla 
 floated in the air, — the soft, warm, langorous 
 air of the tropics. While Marjorie had been 
 reading John Masefield's lines, some lines of 
 Shakespeare had occurred to Sherrill:^ — "There is 
 
352 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 a tide in the affairs of men," and so forth. He 
 decided that the time had come for him. He 
 took the tide. And his venture prospered. 
 
 No interruption came until they had finished 
 settling it all, between them, to their own complete 
 satisfaction. Then they heard the triumphant 
 swell of military music. A regiment was at dress- 
 parade, on the oval of the aviation-field. The 
 clear calls of the bugles came on the breath of 
 the trade-wind, followed by the crash of the 
 military band. The El Capitan march rang out. 
 It seemed to celebrate their bliss, to blend with 
 the very spirit of their hour. 
 
 They sat side by side on that low stone bench, 
 and they talked of the evening when first they 
 had met, and they traced their acquaintanceship 
 down to that very minute. He told her how he 
 had loved her ever since he first saw her — a 
 tall girl, all in white, with a light blue ribbon 
 around her blond hair — crossing the hotel parlor. 
 
 "In a way, I owe my happiness to Mr. Crane," 
 he said, "for it was through him we met." 
 
 And then they went on to make plans for the 
 future. The lieutenant's dreams were very rosy. 
 All men talk soft nonsense on occasion, and 
 Sherrill was no exception to the rule. He 
 suggested a tour around the world. 
 . "Imagine us drifting in rickshaws along the 
 tree-shaded paths of Old Japan, or yachting in 
 the harbors of Australia; wandering among the 
 ruins of almighty Rome, or leaning on a bridge 
 which spans the Amo." 
 
 Marjorie let him talk, but then she said. 
 
MARJORIE BURL 353 
 
 "What you suggest is very delightful, but — I 
 have just completed one journey around the world. 
 Wouldn't it be more delightful still to spend our 
 honeymoon right here in the Paradise of the 
 Pacific?" 
 
 Of course she was right, and instantly the 
 lieutenant's dreams took a new direction. 
 
 "We will sail away to the Garden Island, a 
 hundred miles over there," and he pointed. "We'll 
 charter a little steamer for our own exclusive use." 
 
 "It will be our yacht." Her gray eyes were 
 sparkling. 
 
 "And in the Garden Island I can show you a 
 thousand delicious tropical pictures, all of them 
 different from those of this island, and all of 
 them delightful." The sparkle in his eyes matched 
 the light in hers. 
 
 "We'll find no cities like Honolulu, I suppose." 
 
 "Instead, we'll discover a dozen little towns, 
 scattered along the shore, dreaming beneath their 
 palm trees." 
 
 "Splendid! We'll make our home in the boat, 
 and go coasting from port to port, and drifting 
 from village to village." 
 
 "We'll linger in each place as long as we please, 
 and then go on to the next." 
 
 "We'll ascend the tropical valleys!" 
 
 "Yes, indeed; and walk on the banks of the 
 winding streams," and he grew poetical. "From 
 beneath the palms we'll watch the shores of 
 sunlit bays where the blue waves ripple to a 
 beach of coral sand." 
 
354 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Just then there came to his mind the favorite 
 lines of the late president of the Cosmos Club: 
 
 "Long-crested waves that haste to reach 
 And perish on a snow-white beach; 
 A shining shallop, trim and frail, 
 Borne down upon the spicy gale; 
 
 Two lovers on the ocean vast — 
 
 Two lovers loving well at last 
 Within the shadow of the sail." 
 
 He quoted the lines to Marjorie, and the talk 
 rambled on until the time came when he must 
 return her to the hotel. 
 
 They planned to meet again that evening in 
 another of Honolulu's parks, where the Territorial 
 Band, once the Royal Hawaiian, would g^ve an 
 open-air concert. Marjorie Burl came with her 
 parents. Professor and Mrs. Burl had been 
 pleased to bestow their most gracious approval 
 upon the engagement. In fact, they had seen for 
 some days how the tide was running. 
 
 Lieutenant Sherrill came, to saunter by Mar- 
 jorie's side, or to sit with her on a park bench. 
 And there came Kenneth Crane. He saw the 
 lieutenant and his charming companion, and 
 hurried forward, his hand extended, to offer 
 congratulations, for he knew what had occurred. 
 The officer had called him up by telephone that 
 evening. 
 
 But the bandmaster tapped on his stand. All 
 took their places to listen to the next selection. 
 It was one known as the "Moorish Patrol." It 
 portrayed the passing of a troop of Moorish 
 
MARJORIE BURL 355 
 
 cavalry. The music began so softly that scarcely 
 could it be heard. There was a faint hum in the 
 air, a hum which was broken by a distant jingle. 
 Slowly and steadily the jingle grew. The volume 
 of sound was always increasing and building. 
 The patrol was approaching. Now it was passing. 
 The audience could almost see the black Arabian 
 horses, spurning the earth with their prancing 
 feet; the dark faces and flowing robes and snowy 
 turbans of the riders; their long lances and 
 curving swords. Their cavalry band was in full 
 swing, crashing out a melody which was supposed 
 to be the wild, barbaric music of the Moors. 
 
 How the cymbals and triangle crashed and 
 jingled! But already the music was beginning to 
 soften. The patrol had passed by . It was receding 
 in the distance. With a last little "zing" it died 
 away. 
 
 But, as Crane listened with lowered eyelids, 
 the music seemed to him to portray, not so much 
 the passing of a Moorish patrol, as his own 
 experiences of the last three weeks. 
 
 He saw himself landing in Honolulu, enchanted 
 by its tropical charm, and looking around while 
 he decided what was best to be done. Then 
 he saw his plans taking definite shape. He saw 
 himself coming to hand-grips with the enemy; 
 complication building on complication. He saw 
 himself pursued by dogs, hunted over the island, 
 dragged to the Torture Chamber; then freed as 
 by magic, his enemies once more in his power. 
 Then he remembered those anxious hours in 
 Manoa valley, when he planned a way out. To-day, 
 
356 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 the last complication had been swept aside. The 
 last echoes of the strife were dying away. 
 
 It had been an audacious experiment, full of 
 the clash of wits, the excitement of the chase, 
 suspense and thrill. And he had come through 
 triumphantly, — but had lost all the skin on his 
 teeth in the coming. It occurred to him that he 
 would stop and think — think a long time, before 
 he started out again to "reform and humanize" 
 any of his fellow-citizens. 
 
 Then he thought of what he had said to the 
 president, as to the value of co-operation. He 
 thought how hopeless his own situation would 
 have been, had he not had the co-operation of 
 lieutenant Sherrill and captain Coburn. 
 
 There was the captain, now, accompanied by 
 his two mates, and followed by the men of the 
 Agamemnon. The captain, his men, and his 
 mates were there for an evening ashore. 
 
 Coburn came, to take lieutenant Sherrill's hand 
 and add his congratulations to those of Crane. 
 There was an intermission of ten minutes between 
 the first and second parts of the program. The 
 time was fully occupied with converation and the 
 expression of good wishes. Crane contrived to 
 whisper to the captain that the villains of the 
 play, through their own folly, were all of them 
 gone "where the wicked cease from troubling." 
 But the Japanese would sail in the Agamemnon. 
 Then the band struck up a lively dancing measure, 
 and all settled themselves to listen to the music. 
 
 Half an hour later the concert was over. Crane, 
 the Burls, and Sherrill crowded around captain 
 
MARJORIE BURL 357 
 
 Coburn to bid him farewell, for they knew that 
 the Agamemnon would sail in the morning. 
 
 "We have a long voyage before us," said captain 
 Coburn. "As soon as we have discharged cargo 
 at San Francisco, we load barley for Liverpool." 
 
 They wished him "fair winds and a prosperous 
 voyage around Cape Horn." 
 
 "Captain," said Crane, "I'd like to thank your 
 men personally for what they did for me." 
 
 Coburn gave the command, 
 
 "Line up, boys." 
 
 The men fell into line. Probably their order 
 was not so perfect as that of a regiment on 
 dress-parade, but — ^no matter. Crane walked down 
 the line, thanking the men. When he had 
 exchanged grips with the last of the Norwegians, 
 he felt as though he should not care to do any 
 more handshaking that day. Then another notion 
 occurred to him. 
 
 "Please hold your men a moment, captain," he 
 said, and he hurried to the bandstand. The 
 musicians were descending the steps. They 
 numbered twenty-five. In 1913 the band was 
 less flamboyant than it had been in the days of 
 the monarchy. It boasted only one base-drum 
 and one French helicon. Crane addressed the 
 leader. 
 
 "I want to tell you that I have enjoyed the 
 music immensely." 
 
 "Yah." 
 
 "And I should like to encourage your band 
 with a little donation." Five twenties were 
 transferred from Crane's vest-pocket to the fingers 
 
358 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 of the bandmaster. "All I want in return is that 
 you furnish the music for a procession to the pier. 
 We will arrange it in a minute. The Agamemnon 
 sails to-morrow morning. Captain Coburn and 
 his crew are here. They are all ready to march." 
 
 "Sehr goot! Sehr goot!'' and the leader 
 turned to his men. "Poys, von minute. Dis 
 shentleman here vants us to march to der pier to 
 gif farewell to captain Coburn and der men of 
 der Agamemnon. Dis shentleman has yoost made 
 donation of one hundert toUar to der bant. And, 
 poys, efery cent of de money goes mit you! Poys, 
 vill ve lead de procession? Vill ve hoop it up?" 
 
 Did they respond? Would they come? Why, 
 they were ready to lead the way to the middle of 
 Honolulu harbor! 
 
 In a twinkling the plan had been explained to 
 captain Coburn and the procession had been 
 formed. Lieutenant Sherrill and Majorie Burl 
 stood arm in arm to watch them march away. 
 
 They saw the procession threading its way 
 through the park. Behind the band came Crane 
 and the captain, arm in arm; then the mates, and 
 then the seamen. The sailors were skipping 
 along, rollicking from side to side, and singing 
 as they went, for the tune that the band was 
 thundering out was the El Capitan march. 
 
 As they listened to those glorious strains, 
 lieutenant Sherrill looked at Marjorie Burl and 
 Marjorie Burl looked at lieutenant Sherrill. Once 
 more they seemed to stand in the marble summer- 
 house beneath the palms. Once more the music 
 
MARJORIE BURL 359 
 
 seemed to celebrate their bliss, to blend with the 
 very spirit of their hour. 
 
 Again they turned to look at the procession. 
 They saw it march between the trees, out of 
 the park and out of their lives. They heard the 
 strains of the band and the songs of the seamen 
 roaring away into the distance. They sympathized 
 with Crane's triumph. But his impromptu celebra- 
 tion appealed to them a hundred times more 
 when they thought that it was through him that 
 they had met; it was from his visit to Honolulu 
 they might date their own happiness. 
 
XXVII 
 
 AT HOME IN THE TROPICS 
 
 A YEAR later. Once more the volcanic slopes 
 of Diamond Head rise before us, for we 
 are afloat on the Pacific ocean, steering 
 toward the harbor of Honolulu, although the 
 harbor is not yet in sight. 
 
 The day is bright and breezy, and inspiring 
 with the rush of the trade-wind and the roll of 
 the crested seas, for it is the month of April, 
 when the winds and the season are settled. A 
 golden sun pours its beams down upon the blue 
 and white of the Pacific. From the shore comes 
 the long roar of the surf, the breakers booming 
 on the reef in regular sequence. 
 
 Once more Crane stood on the deck of the 
 steamship "Nevada" and let his gaze linger on 
 the scenes which passed before him, watching 
 the shore of the green tropical island, the fringe 
 of cocoa-palms, and the surf foaming over the 
 coral. He could see the fields of the W plantation, 
 and Diamond Head where lay the military aviation- 
 field, and the long volcanic slopes that rose 
 between them to break off at the cliff where all 
 the trouble had come to an end. Everything 
 reminded him of his experience a year before. 
 Presently the "Nevada" rounded Diamond Head. 
 
AT HOME IN THE TROPICS 361 
 
 Swinging around the point, swinging into the 
 glowing panorama of surf and sunshine and shore 
 which had charmed Crane on the morning of his 
 first arrival, the steamship slid past the beach 
 at Waikiki "where the surf rolls in," anchored for 
 the quarantine inspection, ' and then steamed into 
 Honolulu harbor and up to the Oceanic pier. 
 
 There was the same crowd on the pier to meet 
 the steamer — ladies in white linen dresses, flower- 
 sellers, newsboys. But when Crane landed he 
 found no conveyance waiting for him. He hurried 
 to the telephone-booth, where he learned that he 
 should have to wait an hour for the carriage that 
 would take him to his home. He whiled away 
 the time by walking to the breakwater which 
 guards the southern side of the entrance to 
 Honolulu harbor. 
 
 The place was a quarter of a mile from the 
 trees which shaded the city. His eye had clear 
 sweep across their tops, and up to the head of 
 the valley behind Honolulu. Above the hills 
 the clouds were gathering. He watched them 
 roll together and come charging down the valley, 
 breaking into mist and showers as they came. 
 He saw a glorious rainbow span the great gorge. 
 Then the clouds cleared, and for a minute all 
 was blue above the pass. Another minute, and 
 over the mighty V at its upper end the mists 
 were forming from clear air. Again the clouds 
 came rolling down, accompanied by rain and 
 rainbows. But mists and showers never escaped 
 from the valley. All the while, above the shore 
 where Crane was standing, the clear sky glowed 
 
362 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 intensely blue and the golden sunlight poured 
 unchecked on sand and palms and sea. 
 
 What a land to live in!! And his eye instinc- 
 tively sought the slopes of Tantalus, for there was 
 his new home. 
 
 Tantalus? We must tell where it is. 
 
 Two miles away he saw the seaward face of 
 the hills, and at their feet, resting against their 
 toes, the old volcanic cone of Punchbowl, brown 
 and rusty. Behind it a broad and easy slope rose, 
 green and tree-covered, climbing slowly toward 
 a loftier crater, perched high in the hills. The 
 crater's rim overtopped the plain by two thousand 
 feet. It was known at Tantalus. 
 
 Far up those slopes were colonies of delightful 
 homes. We may have given the impression that 
 the hills near Honolulu were quite deserted; and 
 that was true where the heights were climbed 
 only by rough cattle-trails. But it was not true 
 of Tantalus. Ascend those long slopes and you 
 could find scores of pretty suburban homes, set 
 in splashes of flamboyant vegetation. Especially 
 did they nestle at the foot of the crater itself, 
 fifteen or sixteen hundred feet above the plain. 
 
 Presently Crane had entered the carriage and 
 was ascending the long slope. As the carriage 
 followed the sweeping zig-zags of the road, he 
 scanned anew the evidences pointing to the former 
 fiery history of the island. He saw hills which 
 had been covered with volcanic dust and cinders. 
 He saw gigantic cliffs, built of dark volcanic 
 rock, layer on layer. He saw extinct craters 
 above and below. He caught hints of the days 
 
 I 
 
AT HOME IN THE TROPICS 363 
 
 when fire had flamed from the crests of the hills, 
 when red-hot ashes had rained from the sky, 
 when roaring billows of white-hot lava rolled to 
 the plain. But those suggestions were eclipsed 
 by the peaceful beauty of to-day. Nearly every- 
 where, all had been covered with a profusion of 
 tropical verdure. The volcanic rocks only peeped 
 out through their mantle of grass and trees and 
 bushes. Crest and crater were bright in the 
 tropical light, which gleamed on their enamel 
 of green. 
 
 Back and forth, back and forth, higher and 
 higher, climbed the road, through the forest 
 until it came to the foot af the Tantalus crater. 
 Here it turned to the right, to wind in and out 
 among minor elevations. Native trees, koa and 
 kukui, shaded it on either side. Then it ended 
 abruptly before a gate. 
 
 Crane and his companion left the carriage and 
 passed through the gate and walked down a 
 private way for perhaps a hundred yards, along 
 a green lane that was lined with stakes which 
 had been driven into the earth. All of them were 
 leafing out. Each post and picket was bursting 
 into foliage. It was Robinson Crusoe's hedge 
 come true. 
 
 At the end of the lane his home stood before 
 him. Before it there stretched a sumptuous 
 garden. With its hedge of purple hibiscus, its 
 clusters of feathery acacias, and its broad beds of 
 golden poppies, the garden glittered like a jewel- 
 casket. He lingered for a moment to dwell on 
 the scene. 
 
364 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 His eye followed a yellow path which curved 
 through the lawn. A granite pedestal stood by 
 the side of the path, and on the pedestal a granite 
 urn, and from the curving edge there hung a 
 dark green vine, spattered with blossoms of the 
 deepest red. Above the vine rose a double circle 
 of flowering plants, a blaze of red and blue. In 
 the very center a Japanese tiger-lily nodded, with 
 it long brown stamens and its petals of pink and 
 white. 
 
 But the flowers were not what caught Crane's 
 eye, charming though they were. At the foot of 
 the pedestal there played three beautiful children. 
 The eldest — a boy of five — staggered to lift the 
 broad leaf of a banana-palm. His two little sisters 
 raised their chubby arms to help him hold it 
 level. Side by side, all three walked in line, 
 shaded by the great, umbrella-like leaf. 
 
 Crane's eye dwelt with aff'ection and pride on 
 that group for he knew those children as his own. 
 Like a sensible man, he had married young, 
 five years before his first trip to the Islands. 
 Otherwise, it would have been open to grave 
 doubt whether the proposal beneath the cocoa- 
 palms, which we recorded in the preceding chapter, 
 would have been made by Sherrill or by Crane. 
 
 It was his wife who had brought the carriage 
 to the pier. It was his wife who now was standing 
 at his side, admiring with him the group on the 
 lawn. 
 
 The youngsters were so pre-occupied with their 
 improvised sunshade, that for a minute they did 
 not know they were observed. Then they saw 
 
AT HOME IN THE TROPICS 365 
 
 their father and they threw the leaf aside and 
 ran to meet him. 
 
 He lifted the smallest child in his arms, and 
 led the way into a home that was a tropical idyl. 
 The entrance was behind the triple archway of a 
 portico. As its owner entered it, he looked 
 around him with pardonable pride. 
 
 The wide doors of the portico opened into a 
 square court, a cool and shady retreat. The place 
 was a bower of beauty. In the center there grew 
 a little jungle of green palms and graceful tree- 
 ferns, sheltering a fountain where the water 
 dripped and fell with a pleasant splash and 
 tinkle. There were tasteful stands of flowers and 
 ferns all around the margin of the brick pavement. 
 The cream-colored walls were half covered with 
 a green trellis and broken by arches. In the apex 
 of each arch was a picture wrought in stained 
 glass — typical Hawaiian landscapes, the colors 
 flaming as beneath a blazing tropic sun. A group 
 of bronze statuary stood at the far end of the 
 room — three surf-board riders racing through the 
 surf. The young men threw their arms wide as 
 they stood erect, balancing on the boards. A 
 fourth swam between them. With parted lips and 
 eager eyes and tense muscles, they depicted the 
 very spirit of the sport. 
 
 But the party did not linger in the court, 
 enchanting though it was. They passed through 
 one of the archways, where a door gave entrance 
 to a hall leading to the verandah — or "lanai" as 
 the Hawaiians call it. 
 
 Coming from garden and courtyard the trans- 
 
366 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 ition was as startling as a transformation scene. 
 In the garden all had been seclusion. Surrounded 
 by its sheltering trees, there had been no hint 
 of the fact that the place was balanced on the 
 edge of a cliff, below which the hills fell away 
 so steeply that it seemed as though the lanai was 
 poised in mid-air. From a height of fifteen 
 hundred feet they gazed out into space. 
 
 They were looking down into Manoa valley 
 Fifteen hundred feet below them lay the valley- 
 floor, for they stood on the very verge of the 
 valley-wall, at the place where it was steepest — 
 the Manoa pali. They looked right down on a 
 mighty checker-board made up of square miles 
 of tiny taro-patches ; the descent was so steep 
 that it seemed as if one might toss a pebble down 
 among them. There lay the fields — their bright, 
 luxuriant green illuminated by a brilliant tropical 
 sun, while the trade-wind rippled over them, 
 wave following wave as the leaves bent before it. 
 
 And beyond that valley they saw rice-fields 
 stretching almost to the palm-shaded beach of 
 Waikiki. They could lean on the railing and 
 look down on the distant shore and watch the 
 gorgeous panorama around them — a panorama of 
 green hills and waving trees and bright blue sky 
 where sailed white fleets of clouds that went 
 drifting always toward the west, to build great 
 mountain-ranges of pearl and alabaster along the 
 far horizon. 
 
 Such is the home of the new president of the 
 X Sugar Company, and such is the view from 
 his verandah. From the plain far below the home 
 
AT HOME IN THE TROPICS 367 
 
 can be seen, poised on the outermost verge of 
 a shoulder of the hills, its white sides reflecting 
 the brightness of the western sun, while for back- 
 ground there rise the deep blue of the sky and 
 the deep green of the crater-wall. A group of 
 Poinciana Regia half surround the house with 
 their masses of gorgeous scarlet, showing at a 
 distance like a flock of gigantic flamingoes. They 
 suggested a name for the place. Crane calls it 
 "The Flamingo's Nest." 
 
 It is not true that all Hawaiian sugar-planters 
 live as luxuriously and delightfully as this. In 
 fact, some of them claim they have hard work 
 to live at all. But remember that the X Sugar 
 plantation is a most productive estate, and Crane, 
 as president of the company, shares it prosperity. 
 
 From his verandah he loves to overlook 
 Honolulu harbor, where under his initiative double 
 lines of cocoa-palms have been planted from 
 breakwater to breakwater to relieve the commercial 
 foreground of wharves and the commercial back- 
 ground of warehouses. Before the warehouses lie 
 the deep-sea freighters and ocean liners, their 
 hoarse bellowings rising now and then to 
 Tantalus, though usually the trade-wind carries 
 such sounds out to sea. And beyond the bay 
 lies a marvelous view over a blue sea, where he 
 sees the white fringe of surf which marks the 
 reef, and beyond the reef the green of the shallow 
 water shading to the ultramarine of the ocean, 
 the great globe-girdling ocean which stretches to 
 the ends of the earth. Across that ocean come 
 great steamships from Australia and China and 
 
368 THE FLAMINGO'S NEST 
 
 Japan and the Isthmus of Panama, to fill their 
 holds with the heavy brown sacks of sugar. 
 
 What a lot of happiness a man can extract from 
 life when he takes a genuine delight and a keen 
 pleasure in smply seeing the beauty and grace 
 and charm, and the wonder and majesty and 
 magnificence, which fill the world all around him! 
 
 Not that it is all heaven, even in the Paradise 
 of the Pacific! Indeed, when Crane organized 
 an excursion of the two hundred California stock- 
 holders and their wives and families to Honolulu, 
 some of them claimed to find, instead of heaven, 
 its very reverse. To many, the sultry tropical 
 climate is oppressive in the extreme. 
 
 And the thoughtful reader may suggest that 
 there are possibilities of a more serious drawback 
 to life in the Hawaiian Islands, than a sultry 
 climate. In a land where once "fire flamed from 
 the crests of the hills, red-hot ashes rained from 
 the sky, and roaring billows of white-hot lava 
 rolled to the plain," is there not a possibility of 
 the recurrence of such phenomena? One may 
 imagine the Honolulu papers publishing extras to 
 announce "a stupendous and amazing lava-flow 
 in the great island of Hawaii!" Here come the 
 newsboys, shouting the "Advertiser." "Extra! 
 Extra! The city of Hilo buried beneath a 
 thousand feet of flaming lava!" Then, on the 
 next day, there follow excursions by inter-island 
 steamer to t^e scene, where a mighty river of 
 molten rock is pouring into the ocean, raising 
 it to the boiling point for square miles. But, as 
 a matter of fact, Hawaiian volcanoes are either 
 
AT HOME IN THE TROPICS 369 
 
 extinct or dying. Volcanic outbursts are becoming 
 mild and few, even in the "big island" of Hawaii. 
 
 Hawaii! there is a fascination in the name! It 
 calls up fancies of flying-fish and sapphire seas 
 and gorgeous flowers and jungles soaked alter- 
 nately in tropical sunshine and tropical showers; 
 of dark blue skies where drift the trade-wind 
 clouds, and glorious moonlit nights, nights made 
 perfect by the moonlight of the tropics, when the 
 great moon hangs aloft like a golden globe and 
 bathes the landscape in its golden rays. On the 
 verandahs they are dancing to the swing of a 
 native orchestra which blends its music with the 
 plash of the rolling surf. Far out on the reef the 
 boys are riding their surf -boards. With whoop 
 and halloo they come racing toward the shore. 
 Hawaii! land of sugar-cane, coral and waving 
 groves of cocoa-palms. 
 
 Such is the land where to-day the hero of our 
 island-drama dwells, — where he loves to entertain 
 his friends from the mainland when they see fit 
 to voyage across the ocean. He takes them to 
 his Tantalus home — The Flamingo's Nest. He 
 leads them into the cool courtyard, where they 
 may rest in huge wicker chairs by the side of 
 the fern-shaded fountain. He stretches himself 
 in another wide wicker chair, between the tree- 
 ferns and the bronze pedestal where stands the 
 statue of the surf-board riders. And there he 
 chants the charms of island-life in the Paradise 
 of the Pacific. 
 
 The End 
 
p,^r»oHO 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 2Qfei^aQRllt 
 
 
 
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 ^'■i^' i» ii::^f 
 
 
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 7Aug'62SSg 
 
 
 REC'D LO 
 
 
 AUG 7 1962 
 
 
 
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YC 53376 /