“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.