[Illustration]


CHAPTER IV


THE STORM

Holman glanced inquiringly at the piece of sticking plaster above my
right eye when he met me on the deck the morning after the knife
incident, and I grinned sheepishly.

"You were right about that patch of shadow last night," I remarked.

"How?" he queried.

"This came from it," I replied, touching the plaster with my finger as I
spoke.

The boy whistled and looked around cautiously. "You'll be getting wise
in a day or two," he murmured. "She said you would when I told her this
morning about our conversation of last night."

I laughed, and he turned suddenly toward me. "Do you think we'll put in
anywhere in the Samoan Group?"

"I don't think so," I replied. "Why?"

Holman came closer. "If we do I'm going to get the girls ashore and keep
them there," he muttered. "I don't care what you think of the