But Mapuhi shook his head, and the three heads behind him shook with his. “I want the house,” he said. “It must be six fathoms long with a porch all around--” “Yes, yes,” Raoul interrupted. “I know all about your house, but it won't do. I'll give you a thousand Chili dollars.” The four heads chorused a silent negative. “And a hundred Chili dollars in trade.” “I want the house,” Mapuhi began. “What good will the house do you?” Raoul demanded. “The first hurricane that comes along will wash it away. You ought to know.” “Captain Raffy says it looks like a hurricane right now.” “Not on Fakarava,” said Mapuhi. “The land is much higher there. On this island, yes. Any hurricane can sweep Hikueru. I will have the house on Fakarava. It must be six fathoms long with a porch all around--” And Raoul listened again to the tale of the house. Several hours he spent in the endeavor to hammer the house obsession out of Mapuhi's mind; but Mapuhi's mother and wife, and Ngakura, Mapuhi's daughter, bolstered him in his resolve for the house. Through the open doorway, while he listened for the twentieth time to the detailed description of the house that was wanted, Raoul saw his schooner's second boat draw up on the beach. The sailors rested on the oars, advertising haste to be gone. The first mate of the Aorai sprang ashore, exchanged a word with the one-armed native, then hurried toward Raoul. The day grew suddenly dark, as a squall obscured the face of the sun. Across the lagoon Raoul could see approaching the ominous line of the puff of wind. “Captain Raffy says you've got to get to hell outa here,” was the mate's greeting. “If there's any shell, we've got to run the risk of picking it up later on--so he says. The barometer's dropped to twenty-nine-seventy.” The gust of wind struck the pandanus tree overhead and tore through the palms beyond, flinging half a dozen ripe cocoanuts with heavy thuds to the ground. Then came the rain out of the distance, advancing with the roar of a gale of wind and causing the water of the lagoon to smoke in driven windrows. The sharp rattle of the first drops was on the leaves when Raoul sprang to his feet. “A thousand Chili dollars, cash down, Mapuhi,” he said. “And two hundred Chili dollars in trade.” “I want a house--” the other began. “Mapuhi!” Raoul yelled, in order to make himself heard. “You are a fool!” He flung out of the house, and, side by side with the mate, fought his way down the beach toward the boat. They could not see the boat. The tropic rain sheeted about them so that they could see only the beach under their feet and the spiteful little waves from the lagoon that snapped and bit at the sand. A figure appeared through the deluge. It was Huru-Huru, the man with the one arm. “Did you get the pearl?” he yelled in Raoul's ear. “Mapuhi is a fool!” was the answering yell, and the next moment they were lost to each other in the descending water.