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.

Half an hour later, Huru-Huru, watching from the seaward side of the
atoll, saw the two boats hoisted in and the Aorai pointing her nose
out to sea. And near her, just come in from the sea on the wings of
the squall, he saw another schooner hove to and dropping a boat into
the water. He knew her. It was the OROHENA, owned by Toriki, the
half-caste trader, who served as his own supercargo and who
doubtlessly was even then in the stern sheets of the boat. Huru-Huru
chuckled. He knew that Mapuhi owed Toriki for trade goods advanced the
year before.

The squall had passed. The hot sun was blazing down, and the lagoon
was once more a mirror. But the air was sticky like mucilage, and the
weight of it seemed to burden the lungs and make breathing difficult.

"Have you heard the news, Toriki?" Huru-Huru asked. "Mapuhi has found
a pearl. Never was there a pearl like it ever fished up in Hikueru,
nor anywhere in the Paumotus, nor anywhere in all the world. Mapuhi is