IN THE VALLEY OF TEETH
y Jove, I’ve an idea!” Doctor Rothwell brought down his tilted chair with a resounding whack.
“An idea?” said Rodger Wilbur, throwing down the paper which he was reading, “really, let’s have it.”
“I was reading an account in a paper Frank sent me from Honolulu of a battle which took place there a number of years ago. They celebrated the anniversary or did something the other day worthy of the account occupying preferred position on the front page.”
“Well, what’s so interesting in that? Lots of celebrations here in New York have the report of their doings on the front page.”
“The account went on to say,” continued Rothwell, ignoring his friend’s remark, “of how a large number of men were sent to their death by some chief driving them over a huge precipice. That was a pretty long time ago; now the plain is covered with the skeletons of the warriors and it is visited by the Hawaiians occasionally, who have a secret trail to the place.”
Rothwell paused for breath and Wilbur languidly remarked, “Anything more connected with this idea of yours?”
“Rodger Wilbur, you are a man who does not deserve the luck which Dame Fortune is laying at your door. You don’t deserve to hear anything about a plan that will pull more in a day than your measly law gives you in a month.”
“Come Rothwell, don’t get angry. Explain yourself a bit.”
“Well, my plan is this; let us go to Honolulu, get the teeth in that valley, bring them back to New York, and sell them as artificial teeth. We’ll open up a wholesale “false tooth” shop and, my boy, our fortunes are made. The expense will be practically nothing as we were both planning to spend the summer in London. The cost of living there would be more than we would spend in Honolulu. What do you say?”
“Let’s go; and I say old chap, just sort of forgive me for showing a lack of interest in your plan at the beginning, will you?”
“I will this time, but I don’t promise to always. This is not the only occasion in which you have showed a lack of appreciation for the schemes of my fertile brain. But when shall we start?”
“Tomorrow.”
The trip was uneventful and when the Priscilla landed at Honolulu, she had on board two very impatient passengers in the shape of Dr. Rothwell and Rodger Wilbur. That very day they hired a hack and rode out to the pali, where they saw for themselves the plain of which they had read.
“Any way to get down there?” Rothwell asked to the driver, on their way homeward.
“Sure; want to go?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll find you a man that will take you there. I’ll come to your hotel, say at nine, and he’ll be waiting up there for us.”
The enterprising tourists were ready promptly the next morning and were taken in tow by the Hawaiian guide. They noted the landmarks carefully for their plans were to make many visits to this El Dorado.
As he started to turn back for home, Rothwell slipped on a skull which was hidden in the grass and by some freak of pressure, the strong man’s leg snapped like a pipe stem.
“Here’s a pretty how-do-you-do,” said Wilbur, “how on earth are we to get you home?”
“No pilikia,” said the guide, “my house near. I take care of him till him get better. My kekei wahine she akamai fix sick people. One week—pau! No pilikia.”
“That’s the only thing we can do I guess,” said Wilbur. “If his daughter is anywhere as pretty as that flower girl we saw yesterday on the wharf, you have no kick coming. Besides I’ll be here every day gathering those teeth. Say, did you notice what a lot of them there are here?”
“More than even I dared hope. Our fortunes are made.”
Between them, the Hawaiian and Wilbur managed to carry Rothwell so that the motion caused but little pain to the wounded leg, and they soon arrived at the grass hut in which the guide and his daughter lived.
The father spoke a few words to his daughter who came out to greet them, and she turned into the hut. They followed her and found her busy preparing a bed of fresh grass over which she had laid a sheet of tapa. They place Rothwell on his new bed and Violetta deftly treated the wounded member.
“I think better we go now,” said the Hawaiian to Wilbur, “unless you like moi moi in my house.”
“I thank you, but I’ve an engagement for tonight or I would. Good night, Rothwell. After seeing your pretty nurse, I almost wish that it was my leg and not yours that is out of commission.”
The sudden pain which darted through Rothwell’s leg caused him to smile grimly at his friend’s wish, but he bade him good night without another word.
When Wilbur went to see him the next morning Rothwell said, “Wilbur, you’d better quit coming here until I get better.”
“And why?”
“Because people might want to see me and might be tempted to stroll toward yonder plain. I never credited myself with possessing the only enterprising brain in the world, and some of our Honolulu friends might think of the scheme themselves if they saw those teeth lying around. So you had better visit somebody in town for a while.”
“Just as you say. But how are these Hawaiians treating you?”
“As if I were Kamehameha himself.”
“Grub good?”
“A sick man is not particular and seldom wants much grub. They’ve got a sticky substance they call poi, which they use in place of bread that’s great. Try some,” and Rothwell pushed over toward Wilbur a highly polished calabash containing a greyish substance.
“Got a spoon handy?” that worthy asked.
“Spoon? you’re a green one for sure. Poi, my dear sir, is eaten this way,” and Rothwell stuck two fingers into the calabash, gave a quick twist and placed what adhered to them into his mouth and made a grimace of delight. “Ono,” he said.
“Oh, no, indeed! Thank you; nothing of that sort for me,” and nothing could induce Wilbur to taste poi.
He soon left, and Violetta, who had seen Wilbur’s expression of disgust while Rothwell was initiating him into the mysteries of poi-eating, laughed softly. “Your friend is very particular,” she said.
“Very.”
“Why did you come to Hawaii?”
“Well,—er—for business.”
“You want to buy a sugar plantation?”
“No, I am a dentist and my friend is a lawyer.”
“What is a dentist?”
“A man who tends to your teeth.”
“There are plenty of teeth out on the plain.”
“Yes, that is what my friend and I are here for; to take those teeth back to New York where we came from, and sell them to the other dentists.”
“You must not take those teeth away.” The black eyes flashed. “That plain is sacred; you must not touch anything there.”
“But think of the money there is in this proposition.”
“The teeth must always remain here,” she said firmly as she left the room.
“Here’s a rum go,” said Rothwell. “I hadn’t figured on the Hawaiians caring.”
Nothing more was said on the subject until Rothwell was able to walk about. Wilbur came up to see him and plans were made to carry off as large an amount of teeth as was possible.
“Say, Wilbur, these Hawaiians object to us taking the teeth.”
“They do?”
“Yes, and quite strenuously. However, we’ll take our chances.” They left the hut and started in the direction of the plain.
The old Hawaiian saw them and knew what they were after. His daughter had told him of the plans and, like her, he objected to having them put to the use which the two strangers planned.
“They shall not do it!” he exclaimed, “they shall not take away the teeth of those brave men.” He followed Rothwell and Wilbur and appeared among them as they were filling their bags with teeth.
“Up higher,” he said, pointing to a smaller precipice, “was where the men of Maui fell. They were noted for their beautiful teeth. My daughter tells me that the haoles are making a collection of teeth. They must not fail to secure at least a few of these to take back home.”
Unsuspecting in the slightest the two men followed. They climbed the high precipice, their guide in advance. Wilbur followed with Rothwell close after them. As they neared the top the guide held on to a little bush which grew near by and suddenly kicked backwards. The force of the blow was sufficient to throw Wilbur off his balance, and he fell against Rothwell. Clutching vainly in the air, both men went tumbling down the precipice, and fell on the plain beneath, mangled beyond recognition.
The old Hawaiian gazed in silence at what had been two men, then he muttered softly, “The valley is safe.” He slowly climbed down the height and went back to his hut. Violetta met him at the door, a look of enquiry on her face.
The guide said nothing for a moment, then he repeated, “The valley is safe.”