him to come with us?"

"No," grinned the sergeant, and then looked up and watched the broad
shoulders of the red-haired man, who advanced through the crowd as the
prow of a ship lunges through the waves. "Go get Morley," he said
abruptly.

But Harrigan went on his way without misgivings, not that he forgot the
policeman, but he was accustomed to stand under the suspicious eye of
the law. In all the course of his wanderings it had been upon him. His
coming was to the men in uniform like the sound of the battle trumpet
to the cavalry horse. This, however, was Harrigan's first night in
Honolulu, and there was much to see, much to do. He had rambled through
the streets; now he was headed for the Ivilei district. Instinct
brought him there, the still, small voice which had guided him from
trouble to trouble all his life.

At a corner he stopped to watch a group of Kanakas who passed him,
wreathed with leis and thrumming their ukuleles. They sang in their
soft, many-voweled language and the sound was to Harrigan like the rush
and lapse of water on a beach, infinitely soothing and as lazy as the
atmosphere of Honolulu. All things are subdued in the strange city
where East and West meet in the middle of the Pacific. The gayest
crowds cannot quite disturb the brooding peace which is like the
promise of sleep and rest at sunset. It was not pleasing to Harrigan.
He frowned and drew a quick, impatient breath, muttering: "I'm not long
for this joint. I gotta be moving."

He joined a crowd which eddied toward the center of Ivilei. In there it
was better. Negro soldiers, marines from the _Maryland_, Kanakas,