deserted, and I gave them a start by crawling from underneath the awning
I had made from the copra bag. The Maori wore a dirty khaki coat, with a
pair of trousers reaching to his knees, while the Fijian, instead of
being short-rigged in shirt and sulu, sported a full suit of duck.
"Good afternoon, boss," said the Maori, trying to wipe the look of
surprise from his face with a grin. "Mighty hot afternoon, isn't it,
boss?"

"It is," I answered. "If I knew where that white waterfall is I'd go and
stand under it for a few minutes."

The small Fijian gave a little gurgle of surprise and looked up at his
big teacher, who regarded me with eyes of wonder.

"What white waterfall, boss?" he asked blandly.

"The one you were singing about," I cried.

The Maori smiled sweetly. "We weren't singing about a white waterfall,
boss," he spluttered. "I just guess you were asleep an' dreamed
something."

That didn't improve my temper. I had an edge on the fellow on account of
the high-powered voice he owned, so when he suggested that I had been
dreaming, I climbed to my feet so that I could make my words more
impressive when I started to tell him my opinion of his bluff.

The action startled the Fijian. He had an idea that I was going to use
the piece of _kauri_ pine upon his head, so he gave a yell and started
full speed up the wharf toward the town. The Maori stood his ground for