“It all goes to prove, Bill, and you can take this from me without any sugar,” O’Neil exclaimed, “that friendships among natives are only good business deals. There ain’t no sentiment mixed up in it.
“What’s all that row about out there?” O’Neil suddenly exclaimed, rising and going in haste to look out. He saw several native policemen grasping firmly a thin white man who was protesting vigorously.
“That’s Missi Stump,” Mary Hamilton cried aghast. “What is Johnny Upolu arresting him for?”
“I’m going to find out,” O’Neil said determinedly. He did not like to see a white man in the clutch of the natives. To O’Neil’s mind it lowered all the whites in the eyes of the Kapuans to permit such a thing as this.
Before Johnny Upolu and his two assistants could recover from the onslaught, the big sailor, followed closely by one a little smaller but as impetuous, had attacked their captive, and the policemen were sitting in the sandy road.
Johnny scowled darkly. A crowd had gathered, and like all crowds the Kapuans at once sided against the officers of the law, and were making insulting remarks to the discomfited chief of police.
“What do you mean by arresting an innocent man?” O’Neil exclaimed when Johnny Upolu had risen to his feet. “What’s this island coming to, anyway? Now, you just beat it.”
Johnny coaxed a smile upon his face.
“Got a warrant,” he said, producing a large certificate and showing it to O’Neil and the crowd.
O’Neil glanced contemptuously at the official paper. He could not read a word, but he recognized the design of the seal.