Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 August 1893 — AN IDYL OF HONOLULU. [ARTICLE]

AN IDYL OF HONOLULU.

A Bold Stroke for a Husband. Written for This Paper.

BY LEON LEWIS.

CHAPTEB ll—Continued. He glanced swiftlv around, adding: “Yes, here are the traces of half a lozen men. You are suffering from a blow, sir, that has nearly cost you your life!” “Do you think so?” queried Ralph. “There’s no doubt about it. But what’s the use of talking to you on the subject? Don’t you remember who waylaid you? Don’t you remember anything about the fight?” “Fight? fight? Has there been a fight?’ “Pshaw! Haven’t you some papers about you that will tell who you are?” “Papers?” “Here, let me search your pockets!” proposed the Kanaka impatiently. No opposition being made to this proposal, the Kanaka at once carried it into execution. The result of the search was a considerable number of letters, receipts, bills of exchange, and other documents in which the identity of our hero was perfectly manifest. “Here, read there!” cried the Kanaka, in a fever of impatience. “These will tell who and what you are. Read them. Unfortunately, I never learned to read —few of our people did until after the arrival of the missionaries. Read them!”

forced himself to be outwardly as cool as an iceberg. “These papers don’t amount to anything,” he said, as he put them all together and put them into his own pocket. “They don’t tell me who the young man is, nor anything about him. Part of them are in a language unknown to me. Have you met anybody since you saw the young man?” “No, sir.” “Then of course you have said nothing to any one about him, nor has he been seen by anyone whatever?” “No, sir.”' “That is well, Kulu. Don't mention the affair to any one. Don’t let any one know that there is such a person in existence. I will take charge of the poor young man myself, and try to bring the offenders to justice. But you must not say a word to any human being about meeting him. If you do it will not only d£foat the ends of justice but you will lose your place in my service. ,r “Oh, I understand," returnod Kulu, who knew enough not to offend his employer, whatever else ho knew or suspected. “The matter ends here so far as lam concerned. My meeting with the young man is as though it had not been. You can depend upon my silence." “Then all will bo well with him and with us. You can leave mo now, Kulu, but come and see me in the morning and I’ll tell you what light I am able to get upon the subject. It is to be hoped that I may get track of the would-be assassins. But it all depends upon your silence. They must be left to tnink the young man is dead, you tee. ” Kulu again promised secrecy and took his way toward his own little cabin, a quarter of a mile further in the interior of the island. “Please walk in—walk in, my young friend,” said Bullet to our hero, as soon as Kulu was gono. Ralph complied mechanically and was soon seated in the little sittingroom of his host. “A terrible misfortune, sir,” muttered Bullet, as ho set about dressing the young man’s wounds, “but I dare say you’ll soon be all right again.” He spent nearly half an hour in dressing the sufferer’s wounds —which were many and serious, in addition to the bump upon his head—and during this time he gave his patient several swallows of stimulant, and plied him with a great many questions. “You must drink this, sir,” he said, when his task was done, offoring a final potion. The patient drank it without hesitation or remark. “You must now let mo get you to bed,” said Bullet. Ralph not making the least objection, he was soon undressed and placod in a comfortable bod—Bullet’s own—in a little apartment adjoining tho sittingroom.

He opened one of the letters and hold it under Ralph’s gaze, continuing to repeat his injunction, but our hero merely looked puzzled again, and stared blankly at the bold chirography before him. “I —I am just like you,” he declared. “I—l never learned to read, either.” For a moment the Kanaka looked dumfounded—annihilated—but he then slapped himself violently on the breast with an air of reviving hopes and spirits. “1 have it,” he cried. “I’ll take you to Mr. Bullet." He gathered the various papers of our hero into a package, thrust them into one of his own pockets, and passed his arm through Ralph’s, leading him away into the interior of the inland, taking the general direction of Krowwoiv, at the head of the Pearl Locks. “Mr. Bullet is the man I work for,” explained the Kanaka, as he walked onward. “I don’t know as you will ever understand what that means, but it can do you no harm for me to mention the fact. Mr. Bullet has quite a good farm up here, in a pleasant although rather retired valley. He has had great experience in all sorts of business, and he will tell us in a minute what all these papers have to say about you.” At the end of a weary walk of about three miles the couple reached the crest of a hill, from which they could look down into a beautiful and fertile valley of small extent immediately in front of them. It was well tilled and well shaded, and a little stream of water flowed through it on its way from one of the high plateaus of the Konahuanui range of the sea. 1 “Mr. Bullet lives in the house you see youder, ” announced the Kanaha, pointing out a small four-roomed cottage of a story and a half , that occupied a prominence at one side of the valley. “As you see, it is built in the American style. Mr. Bullet is an American by birth, and was for many years a sailor.”

“And you must go to sleep now, sir,” finished tho old sailor, as ho sat down beside tho bed and passed his hand over the patient’s eyes. “I will watch hero, so that no harm will reach you.” Ralph shut his eves as willingly as obediently, and in loss than a minute thereafter his breathing" announced that he was aslcop. And then Bullet arose with a strange look of jubilance upon his countenance. His eyes gleamed cunningly. “Could anything be better?” he ejaculated in a whisper. “The presence of this young man hero in such a fix is a great thing for mo and Alma. He’s lost to his friends, to himself, to everybody, but his papers tell me just who he is. Glorious! glorious! He is to me and Alma a suro pledge of fortuno!” Crossing the floor on .tiptoe, he opened a door giving upon a narrow stairway, and called in a, whisper: “Are you there, Alma’?” . “Yes, father,” replied a feminine voioe. “What do you want?” “Come down here immediately. But be still about it!”

Our hero did not respond to these observations any more than he had responded to the various other observations of his companion since setting out for the residence of Mr. Bullet. The cause of this silence was, evidently, that his eyes were entirely oocupied, as were his sensations, with the various new and striking scenes constantly presenting themselves to his notice. “Here we are, ” muttered the Kanaka, a few moments later, as he turned off from the rude road to a still ruder path that led across or through the garden of the Bullet estate; “and here is Mr. Bullet himself. ”

He waved his hand toward a personage who stood under the edge of a little shed at one end of the house, engaged in the modest occupation of splitting a stick of wood into small pieces to boil some water for his tea. This man was indeed Mr. Bullet. He was a thin and withered little old man, but yet the possessor of a great deal of strength and vigor. He was at least 60 years of age, and had not the least vestige of a tooth in his head, but this circumstance did not prevent him from chewing tobacco with such energy that Its juice ran continually from each corner of his mouth like cider from a press. Hearing his name pronounced by the Kanaka, he accepted the fact as a sort of introduction to our hero, to whom he bowed with sufficient affability. Ralph responded in kind mechanically, and then resumed his staring and wondering survey of things around him in a way that at once fixed the old sailor’s attention.

CHAPTER 111. THE OLD SAILOR'S PLOT. Hardly a minute had passed when Miss Alma Bullet descended the stairs. She was rather stout of person, and her complexion was as gay and vivid as an Indian blanket, but she was nevertheless endowed with a fair share of attractions for a country where goodlooking women are scarce. She had coarse, irregular features and vivacious eyes, and possessed an average intelligence and capacity. She could have further been commended as healthy and a good cook. Hs anything wrong?” she asked. “No; everything is right,” replied Bullet, with suppressed jubilance. “Hush! don’t speak too loud, or you’ll disturb him." “Disturb whom?" “That model of manly beauty in my bed! I’ve called you to share my joy, joy, Alma. In short, I’ve summoned you as —as a vulture to the feast!" He waved both hands over and around the helpless sleeper. Advancing pn tiptoe, Alma Bullet peered into the little bedroom, surveying the unconscious young Chicagoan with an interest and curiosity she did not attempt to conceal. “Who is he?" she asked. “I’ll soon tell you,” replied Bullet. “Sit down here—no, not beside me but exactly in front. I wish to take a good square look at you." j X Alma took the position ind Seated, Wiping his spectacles nervdusly, yet deliberately, Bullet proceeded to saddle his nose with them, and then brought a long and critical stare to bear upon his offspring. .. t “Yes, you’ll do," he ribitterefl, after closing the door leading into the bedroom. “A Httle fat and red, to be sure; but there is no man wants aj pale and die-away ghost for a wife.' A little burned with summer suns, but all the more healthy. Yes, you’ll fill the hill nicely." / X “What does this mean?” Alma. “It means that we are on the threshold of a gigantic destiny,” replied the old sailor impressively; ’‘that the hour of fate has sounded; that our Ship is about to enter port; In short, that we have hooked on to the world and are about to tow it away to our cave to digest it at our leisure 1" i. “Yes, I see,” said Alma, perfectly bewildered, with a mental inquiry as to what was the matter with her parent, “but do please explain your meaning more fully." j “You shall be enlightened. iLet’s see, dean how old are you? Is it 14, or are you 15?” ■■ ■ % ■ . “Do hear the man!” iteturned Ana. “You know very well that I was 18 the 20th of last March." Bullet opened hilVyes to their widest I extent, in unfeigned astonishment.

“Who is he, Kulu?” he asked in a low tone as the Kanaka, withdrawing his arm from Ralph’s, advanced to his employer’s side. "I don’t know who he is,” replied Kulu. “He has been in a fight, or somebody has waylaid him. There is an awful wound on his head ” “Where did you find him?” demanded Bullet, keenly interested. “In a lonely spot at Kaliki Bay—not far from the water. He is a very nice young man, as you can see, but he don’t know who he is, nor where he came from, nor how he got into this awful fix—” At this point of Kulu’s exciting statements Bullet caught him by the arm“Hushl” he enjoined, stepping about excitedly, as if the ground were burning the soles of his feet. “I comprehend! An appalling mystery! At the least, a case of assault with intent to kill. Caution!” And he raised his hand warningly. “ You don’t know who the young man is, then?” “No, but these papers I found in his pockets will probably tell you.” He handed out the bundle of documents he had secured, adding: “He’s not able to read them himself. His memory is gone entirely,, like that of the man in Honolulu ” A start and a ory from Bullet interrupted the history of “the man in Honolulu.” The old man had turned pale as a corpse, and the papers to which he had directed his attention was shaken violently in his hand. “What is it?” p asked Kulu. The question recalled Mr. Bullet to himself. He controlled his excitement, folded up the document which had so visibly startled Mm, and unfolded another. The whole batch was soon passed in review, and during this time the old man had gradually recovered sgom his first emotions. He had even

"Is It possible?” he cried. “How time does fly, to be sure! At this gait, I am being robbed of half my existence! Eighteen, are you? This accounts for the presence of that worthies* beef-destroyer who has been hanging 1 around you lately!” “You refer to Mr. Keeri, I suppose?” “Yes, I do. Keeri? Heavens, what a name for a son-in-law! He’s not more than half or three-quarters white, and what white blood there is in him is utterly wasted. Get rid fit him, girlget rid of him. Send him about his business. Turn him adrift ” “Well, well, I’ve turned him adrift already,’’ interrupted Alma. “Is tnis so, really?” “Yes, three or four weeks since. If you choose to recall the fact, you haven’t seen Mr. Keeri about the premises lately.” “That’s so, sure enough, cried Bullet, after an instant's reflection. “Some good angel must have directed you. You’ve got rid of that fellow just in time. You concluded he wasn’t good enough for you, I presume? You don't want a scarecrow husband, or a cheap imitation, when you can got the real thing. I always thought you both sensible and ambitious.” “But what has all this to do with this young stranger?” “I’m coming to that directly. Do you remember your mother?” “Perfectly, of course.”

“She was ambitious, too. She was a literary lady—the daughter of a missionary who could read many written languages. But the said missionary was a wandering sort of prophet, and in his restless attempts to convert all creation ho fell into the hands of a Fiji chief who made a square meal of him. Your mother was thus left fatherless, and her mother was left penniless, and this is how it happens that you have received nothing but your good looks and your education from your maternal ancestry-.” Alma expressed by a look her keen realisation of this lack of pecuniary inheritance. “Anctas to my side of tho house, the less said the better,” continued Bullet. “I’m nothing but a runaway sailor from a whaler. Was noarly a blockhead to begin with. Never had any schooling beyond two or three cracks on the head with a ruler. Have learned all I know since I was forty. Hadn’t a dollar when I took it into my noddle, one fine morning about twenty years ago, to give tho old whaler the slip, but your mother managed to get me a chance to pull a hand-press for the missionaries, and I pulled it to some advantage. Advancing step by stop, I have paid for this little homestead, besides securing a good living. But you will see by this exhibit that neitner your birth nor your fortune will satisfy your reasonable ambition. You must look to another to give you the place in the world of which you aro worthy—namely, your husband. And this precious husband is found!” “You refer to this young stranger?” “Yes, Alma. In him you see your future husband, unless I slip upeussedly in my calculations!” Alma advanced aguin on tiptoe to the door of communication, which she placed ajar, and again contemplated the features of the sleeper long and earnestly. A flush of curious interest appeared on her cheeks as she again closed the door and resumed her seat. [to bis continued. |