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Rh Larry, as he stuck the epistle back into its envelope. There was something very much like a tear in his brown eyes. "It would be awfully nice if we were together again, and mother was alive!"

Larry had stopped at the post-office as soon as it was open in the morning, just as he had stopped every morning since he had been in Honolulu. Now, putting his letters away, he hurried on, bound for the dock at which the Columbia lay.

"Well, I see you're on hand," was Tom Grandon's greeting when he appeared. "You can get right to work, if you will. I've sent that good-for-nothing Kanaka about his business."

"Me take Kuola's place," said a thick voice at Grandon's elbow, and both Larry and the mate of the Columbia turned, to find a dusky, fat, and ill-smelling native standing before them.

"What's that, man?"

"You send Kuola away—me take his place."

"I don't want you. I've hired this lad to fill Kuola's place."

"Dat boy?"

"Yes."

"He no strong as Wakari—Wakari werry strong. You try um."