heavy splash followed, and he disappeared into the swiftly flowing waters of the Wailuku River.
"Now you have done it," came in a sharp tone from Dan. "What do you mean by knocking him overboard, Mark?"
"It was your fault," I retorted. "You had no business to stop rowing."
"It wasn't my fault."
"It was."
"I didn't want to get shot."
"Well, you knocked me over and I didn't want to lose the oar."
An angry retort arose to Dan's lips. But suddenly he checked himself. "Now, Mark, let's drop it."
"All right; and help Oliver on board again," I answered, and then we turned the rowboat back to where our chum had just come to the surface, spluttering like a porpoise. "That was a dandy thing to do," he said sarcastically, as he clambered in. "Just look at me!" And he shook his clothes as a dog shakes his fur when shedding water.
"I'm sorry, Oliver" I said.
"And so am I," broke in Dan. "But let us go on, for Delverez and that native are making up the river just as tight as they can."
He took up his oars once more, and I did the same. But the accident had delayed us for sev-
