CHAPTER EIGHT
Black Lightning
"What do you say, Dave; stop this blasted thing for a moment, what?" Freddy Farmer said. "I'm coming loose at the joints. Besides, this is a beautiful spot. What is it anyway, do you know?"
"The beach at Kahuku Point," Dawson replied as he guided the jeep in which they were riding to the side of the road, and braked it to a stop. "And you're right, Freddy, this is some spot. With that half-moon hanging up there in the sky, it's just like a picture from the brush of a great artist."
"Well, strike me pink!" young Farmer gasped as he climbed out of the jeep and gazed at Dawson. "The chap seems to have some beauty and romance in his soul after all!"
"And nuts to you!" Dave snapped as he climbed down, too. "Can't a fellow admire something without being taken for a guy with long hair who lives in a garret?"
"But the way you said it, Dave," Freddy Farmer said with a sly look in his eyes. "So soft and so deep. Do you write poetry, too, my good man?"
"Look, dime a dozen!" Dawson grated. "It was your idea to take this jeep trip around the island. So don't start any of that stuff with me. I simply said that this was quite a spot. And it is, see?"
"Right you are, Dave, right you are, old thing," young Farmer laughed. "I simply couldn't pass by the chance to pull your leg a bit. First time I ever heard you admit there were such things as moons, and what not. Just shows there is another side to you. And I like that side, too. So am I forgiven?"