“Indeed I do,” replied Mabel. “It was the day that horrid Fleming carried me off and you chased us.”
“I caught you all right, anyway,” Joe replied.
“Yes,” said Mabel saucily. “Only to spend all your spare moments afterward in regretting it.”
Joe’s reproachful denial both in words and looks was eloquent.
They visited the famous volcano with its crater Kilaeua, and watched in awe and wonder the great sea of flame that surged hideously and writhed like a chain of fiery serpents.
They saw the famous battlefield where Kamehameha, “the Napoleon of the Pacific,” had won the great victory that made him undisputed ruler of the island. They saw the steep precipice where the three thousand Aohu, fighting to the last gasp, had made their final stand, and had at last been 162 driven over the cliff to the death awaiting them below.
It was with a feeling of genuine regret that they finally bade farewell to the enchanting island and again took ship to pursue their journey.
A large number of new passengers had come on board at Honolulu, and among them was a man who soon attached himself to the baseball party. He was tall and distinguished in appearance, smooth and plausible in his conversation, and seemed to be thoroughly versed in the great national game.
His ingratiating manners soon made him a favorite with the women of the party also, and he spared no pains to deepen this impression.
Reggie liked him immensely, largely, no doubt, owing to the hints that Braxton, which was the stranger’s name, had dropped of having aristocratic connections. He had traveled widely, and the names of distinguished personages fell from his lips with ease and familiarity.