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Updated: May 10, 2025
Whistling softly to himself, Prout rode along the palm-bordered winding track. It was not often he was away from Marie, but he meant to take his time this evening. It was nearly five miles to Burton's plantation at Halaliko, and half an hour would finish his business there.
Had he been wiser he would have taken the little man's knife out of his belt and plunged it home between his ribs, for a Chileno never forgives a blow with a fist. "Are you going over to Halaliko to-night, Prout?" asked Sherard, walking up to where his manager and Marie sat enjoying the cool of the evening.
"Don't let Burton entice you to Halaliko, Prout," he said with a laugh; "he knows that your time here is nearly up." Prout laughed too. "I don't think that Marie would like me to give up Kalahua for Halaliko would you, old girl?" She shook her head and smiled. "No, indeed, Mr. Sherard. I am too happy here to ever wish to leave."
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