“Hurry up!” called Bobby, joyfully, as he emerged.  “There are three Kanakas and you and I. Can you swim?”

“Rather,” said Percival.

They ran down to the beach to where the canoe, a long, narrow affair with curious outriders, awaited them.

“The last boat that went out capsized,” cried Bobby, gleefully taking her place behind the second Kanaka.  “The men were in the water five minutes, but the sharks didn’t happen to notice them.”

“Sharks!” exclaimed Percival in consternation.

The native in the front seat grinned and shook his head.

“No sharks this side of the reef,” he said reassuringly.

As they paddled out over the blue water, Bobby’s enthusiasm dashed like spray against the rock of Percival’s seeming indifference.

“Isn’t this the most heavenly place that ever happened!” she cried.  “Look at the mountains back yonder against the sky, and the mists in the valleys, and all the color spilling out over the edge of the land into the sea!”

“Ye-es,” said Percival; “but as a matter of fact I find the mosquitos peculiarly trying.”

Now, if the truth must be told, it was not the mosquitos which were disturbing the Honorable Percival.  It was not even his failure to find the purser.  It was the disconcerting discovery that this persistent young woman from the States was making him do things he didn’t in the least want to do.  He glared gloomily at the back of her white neck, across which a dark lock floated tantalizingly.

As the space between them and the shore widened, the surf became stronger and higher, until by the time they reached the reef the canoe was dancing like a shell on the water.

“Afraid?” asked Bobby, teasingly, flashing a smile over her shoulder.

“I don’t think,” said Percival, and, immediately was chagrined at having indulged in such a vulgar expression.

“I love it!” cried Bobby.  “It’s more fun than a bucking bronco.  Is this our wave?  All right!  Let her go!”

The Kanaka in the prow gave the signal, and the boat backed into the monster wave just as it was about to break.  Simultaneously the paddles were plunged into the water, and a vigorous pull was made for the shore.  There was a merry whiz of rushing waters, a breathless suspension in midair, then a gigantic upheaval as the boat plunged over the crest of the wave and shot like an arrow two miles in two minutes to the beach.

Percival, as has been stated, rather prided himself on having exhausted life’s thrills.  When one has made a reputation for luging at Caux and has raced on skis with the professionals at St. Moritz, not to boast of a daring flight in a French aeroplane, one is apt to be rather superior to minor sports.  But the present thrilling diversion, shared with a girl as irresistibly pretty and as utterly abandoned to the joy of the moment as Bobby Boynton, proved quite the most exhilarating pastime in which he had ever indulged.