Slowly the time dragged by until morning. With the first streak of dawn Mrs. Lola came back, followed by her husband, who had been drinking and who was abusing her furiously in their native language. Once he struck her, but she pointed to us and to a knife she carried, and he did not touch her again. Evidently, if he had hit her a second time, she would have liberated us and got us to defend her.
For breakfast the two dined on a dish of poi. The woman offered some to us as we lay flat on our backs, but neither Oliver nor I touched a mouthful. But we partook of some rice cakes, and also of some water, after we had been assured that it was not drugged.
"How long are you going to keep us here?" I demanded of Lola.
"Stay here till udder man come," grunted the Kanaka. "He got to pay me for what I do."
"I don't think he will be back," said Oliver.
"He must come back. Now be still," and Lola kicked Oliver in the side and left the hut.
"He's a cheerful rascal," muttered my friend. "He's the kind of native that they will never civilize."
"I believe he's half Malay," I answered. "He doesn't look like a pure-blood by any means."
An hour went by. In the meantime Mrs. Lola had gone off, taking a bundle of fancy baskets
