"Bother the purser! We haven't a minute to lose. The steamer sails at five."
"But really, I can't. And I quite agree with Mrs. Weston that it would be most awfully improper for you to go alone."
"Well, if you don't take me, I will go alone!" she said defiantly; then she suddenly changed her tactics, and added with childish insistence: "But you are going to take me now, aren't you? Please?"
He could scarcely believe his senses when, a few minutes later, he found himself frantically struggling into a rented bathing-suit in a steaming little bath-house that gave evidence of recent use. But a glance into the mirror that hung on the door not only convinced him of his identity, but added the comforting assurance that he was not by any means looking his worst in his present garb. He paused long enough to flex a presentable bicep with pardonable pride.
"Hurry up!" called Bobby, joyfully, as he emerged. "There are three Kanakas and you and I. Can you swim?"
"Rather," said Percival.
They ran down to the beach to where the canoe, a long, narrow affair with curious outriders, awaited them.
"The last boat that went out capsized," cried Bobby, gleefully taking her place behind the second Kanaka. "The men were in the water five minutes, but the sharks didn't happen to notice them."
"Sharks!" exclaimed Percival in consternation.
The native in the front seat grinned and shook his head.