“Do you indeed?” said Kalamake.
“Yes,” said he, “and I may as well tell you plainly, I mean to have it. A man who picks up dollars on the beach can certainly afford a concertina.”
“I had no idea you had so much spirit,” replied the sorcerer. “I thought you were a timid, useless lad, and I cannot describe how much pleased I am to find I was mistaken. Now I begin to think I may have found an assistant and successor in my difficult business. A concertina? You shall have the best in Honolulu. And to-night, as soon as it is dark, you and I will go and find the money.”
“Shall we return to the beach?” asked Keola.
“No, no!” replied Kalamake; “you must begin to learn more of my secrets. Last time I taught you to pick shells; this time I shall teach you to catch fish. Are you strong enough to launch Pili’s boat?”
“I think I am,” returned Keola. “But why should we not take your own, which is afloat already?”
“I have a reason which you will understand thoroughly before to-morrow,” said Kalamake. “Pili’s boat is the better suited for my purpose. So, if you please, let us meet there as soon as it is dark; and in the meanwhile let us keep our own counsel, for there is no cause to let the family into our business.”
Honey is not more sweet than was the voice of Kalamake, and Keola could scarce contain his satisfaction.
“I might have had my concertina weeks ago,” thought he, “and there is nothing needed in this world but a little courage.”
Presently after he espied Lehua weeping, and was half in a mind to tell her all was well.