"What for cap'n go Hanarora," said he, "with white man?" "I don't know," said I. "Because he wanted to, I suppose. He has a roving commission, I presume, to go where he likes." "Well," said Mr. Bailey, pointing to the heap of goods on the floor, "I got these tings, now, I goin' keep 'em." The old gentleman nodded his head in silent approval. "I got _you_ here too. I goin' keep _you_." "The deuce you are!" said I, without waiting for the old man's opinion on this point. "We'll see about that." I made a dash for the door; my would-be jailor did the same; we both seized it, pulling opposite ways, but I proved the stronger! I pushed him aside, flung the door open, and bounded out into the footpath. The whole thing had flashed upon me at once! I now understood that his intention had been to capsize the boat in the surf, making it appear accidental; and his vexation arose from his failure to beach her broadside on, as he had meant to do. As I struck into the path leading towards the landing I encountered Peter, the Mani Kanaka, coming out of the bypath through the bushes. He, too, had smelt treachery in the air. "Where Bailey?" said he. "In his house," said I, as I hurried along the path. "Come on, let's go to the boat." "Where four Kanaka pull boat?" asked Peter. "I don't know," said I. "I haven't seen 'em." "Where trade? gun--hatchet--tobacker?" "In Bailey's house. He has taken that. He tried to take me, too." Just then a single savage, evidently a person of note, hideously tattooed, dashed diagonally across the path ahead of us, and into the bushes, heading for the beach by a short cut. Peter whipped out his sheath-knife, and gave chase, I followed, shouting to him to stop; which he did, seeing that pursuit was hopeless. "What would you do with that knife, Peter?" I said. "Cut him," answered my Kanaka, dryly. "If you did so our lives would not be worth a straw. Put up your knife, Peter; we can do nothing fighting against a whole tribe of these scoundrels."