# Kat and Copy-Cat/Chapter 4

DURING the several days which followed, Dick found himself contemplating with some satisfaction the fact that Fate, with very little assistance upon his part, had established his standing with his neighbor upon a somewhat more pacific footing. To be sure, he had not seen the girl again; but in their last interview she had at least treated him a little less like an insect, and there was some encouragement in this. Perhaps in time he might work up to the status of her dog, and possibly she might eventually come to recognize him as almost a human being. In fact, his satisfaction had reached a point of banishing his former phase of humiliation over the untoward situations of their first contacts; and now his sense of humor had come to the rescue and substituted a grin at each remembrance, in place of the qualms of self-abasement. He now began to feel a touch of real enthusiasm in the task which Bert Sands had set for him and to take a definite interest in the developments; and also to put considerable thought upon ways and means of discovering and circumventing whatever ​machinations the Morton girls and McKnight might have in mind. He found that Mrs. Sands and her husband had gone to Kauai for a week or so, and therefore he had to possess his soul in patience, having no one with whom to speculate upon the meaning of recent events.
The only thing that worried him was that last remark of Evalani's. She had asked him, evidently in great fear, if he was sure that the observers upon the other ridge had not a gun instead of a spy-glass. This must mean one of two things; either the girl really was partly mad, or else that she actually had some reason to fear either the girls or McKnight. Putting aside the first theory, and also her perhaps natural ignorance that a gun could not carry so far, what reason could there be for the second theory? It was not rational to suppose that McKnight would try to revenge himself upon her for her indirect part in the death of his brother; though of course such an idea might be consistent in a morbid mind, upon learning of his return. Nor had the Morton girls, supposedly, any reason to connect her with the disappearance of their cousin, any further than that she might possibly know something of the girl's heart during those last hours. Of course they might feel that had Evalani not married Malua, their cousin might perhaps have won him in time; but from Kat's vituperative remarks a few days ago, it would seem that they would not have been ​any too greatly pleased with such an alliance, even though it made for their cousin's happiness. And still, on the other hand, there was certainly something in the wind in their direction. It was perfectly evident that they had made their call for the express purpose of trying to inveigle him into taking McKnight into his home; and what would be the object other than that he might, for some purpose, be in the vicinity of his neighbor? And also, it was plainly evident that they had some reason for invading the ridge opposite; and surely Kat's cruel curiosity merely to see a pitifully malformed and idiotic child, would not make girls of their type undertake so difficult a feat as the scaling of that rugged mountain side.
Under the spur of Dick's enlivened spirits and more vital outlook, his work began once more to move along at its accustomed pace; until again it occupied the center of the stage during his working day, and the problems of his neighbor were relegated to his more relaxed hours. Also, he had betaken himself to the practice of a noontime walk down the trail after luncheon, before going back to tackle the afternoon's work. And it was upon his return from such a walk one day that he noticed, in passing his neighbor's garden, that the old grandmother was out in the yard superintending the transplanting of some large ferns from the ground into baskets for the lanai, and that Fong was grum​blingly doing the work. He went on to his desk and was soon deeply absorbed, being vaguely conscious of a feeling of satisfaction that the kiddie next door was probably having a nap, since he was not running a newly acquired kiddie-car back and forth over their lanai and bumping into the rail at each end with a delighted squeal. For several days he had found himself waiting periodically for the bump and the squeal, and this temporary hiatus in the entertainment was very much to his taste. However, the peace did not last long; for in a few moments there came a series of bumps and clatters which would seem to indicate that the youngster was riding the car down the stairway; but as it continued for some moments, instead of ending in a crash and a scream, he decided that Fong was probably taking some soy pails of fresh crotons up to the roof sitting-room, and turned again to his work.
And as he turned, he caught a glimpse of a windswirled yellow frock, such as his neighbor always wore, disappearing around the curve of the road up the mountain. But no sooner had he attacked the keys of his typewriter, than the trundling of the kiddie-car began again, sounding even louder than usual. However, he took himself in hand to counteract it,—to convince himself that it was really too small a matter to be irritating, especially since it couldn't be helped; and besides, until this new steed had arrived, he had scarcely ever heard a sound ​from next door, so why let this bother him? But nevertheless, bother him it did, for the rumbling sounded so much louder and more hollow than it ever had before, and he yanked page after page from his typewriter, wasped it into a ball of harassed injury and cast it into his waste-basket, and inserted a fresh sheet. At one point, as he raised his eyes for aim at the basket, they rested for a satisfied moment upon Evalani, just coming around the curve of the road, the wind swishing her thin frock about her and the dog tugging at the leash. But in another instant she had stopped short in her tracks and a sharp scream broke from her and she dropped the dog's chain and started upon a wild run in the direction of home.
Dick sprang to his feet, his senses instantly alert and tense. The direction of her face when she screamed and the sounds which had been coming to his ears, suddenly revealed the situation. He made a dash for his bed-room and up the ladder and through the sky-light with incredible speed, and snatching the folded steamer chair which lay against the edge of his cot, he flung it through the ironwood branches and across the space between the two roofs; and almost as soon as it touched the other side, he was upon it, clutching the heavy green locks of the trees, sliding himself between the trunks and springing upon the roof and then darting after the small figure upon the trundling kiddie-​car which was careening gaily along on a deadly slant within a few feet of the edge of the roof and the appalling depths below. In fact, so narrow was the margin that when he grasped the child, he must needs fling himself back upon the roof to keep from being carried over the edge by his own impetus, while the kiddie-car shot bravely off into space and not even a clatter came up from the grim abyss.
In a moment he was struggling to his feet, clutching the frightened child in his arms; but he was scarcely upright before the girl's figure dashed from the stairway out upon the roof, her eyes mad with fear and her arms reaching wildly forward.
Dick, holding the child, placed himself in the way of her blind rush. "It's all right," he said, bracing himself against the impact. "It's all over and no harm done;" and he released the little one to her arms.
She dropped upon the mat, drawing the child to her breast and bowing her head over him and sobbing great, heavy, tearing sobs; while the child, too frightened at the stranger and the quick action, even to cry, lay still in her arms and stared at the tall man beside them.
For only a moment Dick stood there, looking down at the pair; and then, as the sobs continued, he turned softly and went back to the point from which he had entered, negotiated his passage back to his own roof, drew over the chair and descended ​to his own lanai.
But instead of returning to his typewriter, he sat down in a wicker chair and took his face in his hands and sat for a long time quietly, with his face hidden. Something had happened to his life,—something appalling; and he sat contemplating it almost with incredulity. It was as if some crushing calamity had fallen and he was at first too dazed even to take in its full import, and yet was conscious that it spelled chaos for him. And as he sat there the sight of the child's frightened face looking up from its mother's breast, seemed burned into the very fabric of his brain and the hiding of his own face could not shut it out. For the little face, instead of being that of a gross, malformed monster, mindless and bestial, had the beautifully clear-cut features and fair skin of an Anglo-Saxon child, with wide, intelligent blue eyes and the tow hair of so many American three-year-olds.
And as Dick sat there, with the light shut out by his sheltering hands, he tore his soul wide open and gazed at it. In the light of this revelation there was only one thing to think, only one thing that was positive, only one great petrifying verity which overtopped everything else in his life. Heretofore he had pitied the girl as an innocent sufferer from a tragedy in which she had become involved without being in any way to blame; but here suddenly he saw her now as the moving cause of the whole ca​tastrophe. Instead of being innocent, she was black with guilt. Instead of hiding from the world the pitiful evidence of her unearned disaster, she was, instead, hiding the dreadful proof of her sin and her guilt. No wonder that when David Malua saw the child for which he had longed, he went forth and killed the author of his disgrace and then wiped out the score with his own blood.
And it was here that Dick Harris faced his own soul and cringed. It was no use to say "Well, what then! What is it to me? Why should I care?" The plain fact of the matter was that he did care. He cared desperately. He cared so damnably that the world was black to him and nothing existed but this awful revelation and the fact that, in spite of the horrible reality, he loved the girl with every fibre of his being; and that even with that, he hated her for having brought into his life so frightful a complication.
And now he began to wonder how much Carter McKnight knew or suspected. This might be the secret of the interest which he and the Morton girls evinced in Evalani and her child. Perhaps McKnight's brother had written him of his affair with the Hawaiian girl, and he was trying to find out about the child. Probably this was the reason that the girl was afraid of him. What the purpose of his interest in the child might be, since it obviously could not inherit, was hard to surmise; but that he ​was interested was beyond question; and it was likely that the Morton girls were helping him merely because he was going to marry Kat, which gave them common concern. And then his mind reverted again to his own position in the matter, and abysmal gloom once more enveloped him.
It was while he still sat there with his face in his hands, that a quiet voice spoke to him, and he raised his head to see the Hawaiian girl standing before him, her hands clasped nervously and her eyes dark and anxious. "I'm so sorry," she said, with a wan little smile; "We seem to make you a lot of trouble. I want to apologize for not thanking you,—for going all to pieces about my baby,—but—but you see, he is all that I have," and her voice broke a little.
Dick had come to his feet instantly, though he was conscious that his face was still drawn and haggard. He tried to smile naturally. "It's all right," he said; "I'm only too glad that I got there in time. It was a mighty close call for the little fellow. That certainly isn't a very safe place to ride hobby-horses. Won't you sit down?"
"No, no!" said the girl; "I must go right back; but I wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did, and how tremendously much your instant action meant to me. It was wonderful, the way that you got up there so quickly. And I wanted—" she stood looking at him, clasping and unclasping ​her hands; "—I wanted to ask you—please—" she stopped.
"Go on," he said, gently.
She continued, still looking straight at him. "You saw my child," she said; "No one else has ever seen him excepting just ourselves. You—you will keep my secret—please?"
Dick bowed gravely, "I would have kept it without your speaking," he said. "What I have learned inadvertently, is as if it had never come to me. You may be perfectly at rest about that."
"I thank you," she said. "Of course you will not understand, but—"
"It is not necessary that I should understand," said Dick. "Your life is yours to live, your secrets are yours to keep. You may still consider that only your own little household and the dead know your secret."
The girl's eyes grew wider. "I wonder—" she said softly, "—I wonder if the dead do know."
Dick smiled down at her. "I think," he said, "that their sight is clearer than ours; and they see not only what appears, but also what lies beneath. If they know our temptations, then surely they must more easily forgive our deflections."
The girl nodded her head gravely. "Perhaps that is so. It helps, anyway, to think that it might be like that. I believe that the idea will sort of rest me. I am so, so tired of thinking and wondering," ​she added, with a sorry little smile that was sadder than tears. And then she turned to go.
Dick walked with her to the door. "You are too much alone," he said; "You should have more companionship."
But the girl only shook her head. "It is the only way," she said, "The only way now. Perhaps later I shall find some means to take my little boy to the Coast; but I cannot do it now." And then she added: "You have been very kind, Mr. Harris. I am glad that you came up here to live;" and with a brighter smile she stepped through the break in the hedge;—stepped through almost into the face of a passing automobile containing the Morton sisters and McKnight.
The Kat sisters giggled audibly and McKnight almost ran the car off of the road, in his eagerness to lean out and look well at the girl who had been the cause of his brother's death; and they could see the sisters looking out through the back glass after the car had passed.
Dick gritted his teeth. "Awkward!" he commented.
The girl was breathing rapidly. "Who was the man?" she asked.
"That was McKnight," answered Dick.
"Oh!" cried the girl, desperately; "Am I to be hounded my whole life long? Oh, why didn't David take me with him, too? Oh, why didn't he?" And ​she turned and fled through the hedge and into her own home.
And that afternoon Bert Sands, having returned from her wanderings, drove her little car up the mountain and called upon Dick, to learn of his progress.
"Well?" she inquired, ensconced behind the tea-tray; "What is the report? Are you getting anywhere?"
And Dick Harris looked her fairly in the face and replied: "Yes, Mrs. Sands—but I can't tell you anything about it." And then he amended the statement; "I can't tell you all about it," he corrected.
Bert smiled across at him. "That's all right," she said. "If we happen upon anything that isn't our own, we can't tell it; that's sure. That is a sort of a house of secrets over there, anyway," and she inclined her head in the direction of the neighboring lanai; "and we don't want to pry or to learn anything that isn't any of our business. All that we want is to help one sad little old lady; and anything that is not meant in that direction, is kapu, and never happened, so far as we are concerned."
"Fine!" said Dick, gratefully, and then went on; "There have been some curious happenings which I don't entirely understand and I can't tell you all about them; but they have to do with the call of the Morton girls that day when you warned me of their ​descent upon me;" and he forthwith detailed the events of that appalling afternoon.
Bert listened with interest. "H'm!" she said, "That's curious. I wonder what they are up to. Have you any idea?"
"I know a little," Dick hesitated; "but it is involved in the matter which cannot be told. You see, I had to let you in on this much, because they are not through yet, and I may need the help of your grey matter if it gets too much for me." And then he went on to retail the story of the trio's visit to the top of the ridge opposite.
Bert set down her teacup and folded her arms on the table and stared across at Dick. "It waxes interesting," she said. "We start in to do a little good turn, and we suddenly find ourselves in the middle of a mystery where somebody may need our help in good earnest. I'll tell you what, Dick Harris, I wouldn't trust that McKnight man for three minutes, if he had any interest at stake. I can't see what interest he can have, but that doesn't belie the fact that he has one. And as for the Kats, they have about as much soul as a jaguar, and would hesitate no longer to do an ill turn if they were sure they wouldn't be found out and they had the least thing to gain. Now listen, do you mind telling me whether what you have learned furnishes any motive for McKnight's interest?"
"Yes, and no," said Dick, guardedly. "It gives a ​possible clue to the cause for a certain amount of interest, but none whatever as to what sort of a purpose might be attached. I wish that I could tell you, for that agile brain of yours might work it out; but I just can't," and he shook his head ruefully.
Bert pondered. "He's engaged to Kat, I suppose," she said, slowly; "and it might be that they are afraid that Mr. Morton might leave something to Evalani's child and cut them out of a few thousands. I don't know. I'll mull this much over in my mind for a while, anyway. One thing more, can you tell me whether you have made any headway in the direction of leading the girl toward a talk with Mrs. Walters?"
"Well," said Dick, more cheerfully; "I've somewhat overcome her prejudice against me for the time being. It is possible that I might sometime be able to bring up a question which would tend toward some such suggestion,—but not yet. It is a pitifully sore subject, of course, considering all of the relationships involved, and it won't be easy to bring matters around to such a point; but I'll do my best."
Bert rose to go. "Well," she said; "if the way ever opens for you to put me into touch with the girl, don't let the opportunity slip. The poor child is living a dreadful life, alone with that tragic baby and the old Hawaiian grandmother. I have a lot of sympathy for her and I believe that if I could just ​get into touch with her once, I could get her out of that dreadful morbid condition which makes her shut herself up like this. Just keep it in mind, Dick. And meanwhile I'll keep an eye on the Morton cats and see if I can land anything to explain their doings."
And again, as they passed out through the hedge, an automobile was being driven slowly by, and in the car the Morton girls and, as usual, Carter McKnight. The car stopped and Kat Morton leaned out. "Well, well, Mr. Harris!" she called; "Is this your vaunted isolation? I begin to see method in the very exclusive life which you have chosen to lead."
Dick's head went up and he stepped close to the car. "The Fates were unkind to me, Miss Morton," he said, evenly, "when they made you a woman instead of a man." And then, with a bow, he turned away to see Bert to her car.
Bert's eyes were blazing and her knuckles clinched white. "Oh!" she said, "Please good Lady Fortune put it into my hands to get back at her some day. I'll never be happy until I see her eating crow! Never, never!"
Dick laughed. "A crow is a bird, and birds is birds and cats is cats; maybe she'd like it."
"Nope!" said Bert, with conviction; "This crow is going to be a different kind of a bird. It is going to be doctored, and doctored to a finish, and it will ​be the very bitterest bit of eating that she ever tackled. Just wait, there'll be a beautiful reckoning some day!" and she deftly turned her car and drove away down the road, while Dick returned to the house to contemplate the fact of two trips of the trio up the mountain in one day, clearly indicating that they were, for some reason keeping a close watch upon his lonely neighbor; but for what possible reason he was unable to hazard even the most remote guess.
However, his suggestion to Evalani that she was too much alone, seemed to have borne fruit; for about the middle of the next morning he was astonished to hear her voice calling his name, just beyond the ironwood windbreak. He sprang to his feet and in an instant was bending over the rail of that corner of his lanai and brushing aside the swaying branches. The girl stood leaning forward, with an armful of the long green tassels gathered against her breast, and her face looked gayer and her eyes brighter than he had ever seen them excepting upon that first morning when she danced to the rising sun. She peered over at him, smiling and holding out his field-glasses. "Here are your glasses," she said; "If you reach a long, long way, I am sure that you can get them;" and she leaned farther out toward him.
"But," he protested, "don't you want to keep them longer?" You can just as well as not; for, as I ​told you, I have another pair."
"No," she said, "I don't think that I shall need them any more. The girls will never take that climb again. I can imagine how that one trip must have laid them up with listerine and cold creme. I am surprised they got about again as soon as they did. I've been up there, and it's no joke of a climb, I can tell you."
Dick leaned forward and took the glasses from her hand. "All right," he said; "I shall be keeping my eye out for them, anyway."
The girl still stood clasping the ironwood tassels, her face looking like that of a dryad peering through. "I was going to say," she offered, hesitatingly, "that if you really would be more comfortable with those boards taken down from this end of your lanai, I don't mind—now. You see," she added, with a rueful smile and a tiny catch in her breath, "I haven't anything to hide from you any more."
Dick's face was glowing. "That's fine of you," he said; "I'll have Moto take them down right away. It will make a lot of difference to me." And this in spite of the fact that ever since that one disastrous kona period, the trade wind had been sweeping clear and sweet the full length of his lanai every day and all day and all night.
"You are sure," she asked, "that little David's noise will not disturb you?"
"Not the least bit in the world. Not the very ​least. I shall love to hear him." But at the same time he was conscious of a qualm of thankfulness that the rumbling kiddie-car was in the bottom of the Manoa Valley. But even that ungenerous thought he instantly put aside. "And by the way," he said; "he must be missing his kiddie-car; if you would like me to, I'll bring one up from town."
"Oh, no, no!" she exclaimed; "Oh, he shall never have another one, never! That was too terrible. It seems just impossible that it could have happened, careful as we are; but you see, Grandma was out in the garden with Fong and I had just put David to sleep and he always sleeps for an hour at least, and so I thought nothing of going out for a little walk. But there's a gate at the foot of the stairs and Fong had left it unlatched when he came down after taking some ferns up to my sitting-room; and David waked up and took his kiddie-car and went to find me. I don't see how he ever got the thing up to the roof; but the stairs are shallow and he is such a strong little fellow. But, oh, when I saw him up there—!" And she hid her face for a moment in the green tassels.
"Well," said Dick, "he's all right now, thank Heaven; and we don't have to worry about what didn't happen. I'm going to have Moto fix these boards right away; and then we can both leave our curtains up, for the ironwoods make an effective screen; and if anybody comes, mine will go down ​pronto. It certainly will make it a lot cooler and pleasanter."
And so, while Dick went down to town for his mail, Moto worked strenuously with hammer and chisel, and by the time that he returned, the heavy canvas curtain had been rolled up, and in its place was a wide and high opening across which swung the fragrant green tassels, and from beyond which came the soft strains of a steel guitar and a sweet voice singing Imi Au, with all of its plaintive Hawaiian tones and cadences.
Thus, almost without his furtherance, the bars were suddenly down, and during the fortnight which followed, Dick lived in a sort of radiant Land O'Dreams; and all of the radiance emanated from one piquant face with shining eyes and gracious lips and a voice which laughed to him through the ironwoods, or crooned lullabys to the little one, or sang old Hawaiian songs to the sliding whimper of the steel guitar. He was conscious that it was only a Land O'Dreams,—that he dared not make it a land of reality; but the dream was sweet and he shut away from him zealously the bitter moment of awakening. Soon he was spending all of his evenings on the other lanai. She had let him swing across the intervening space one evening when he had brought David a huge, gaily-colored rubber ball to take the place of the lost kiddie-car, and it was only fair that he should see the child's astonish​ment and delight. And again, the next evening, he had brought a parcel of magazines and books; and after that it was California fruits or some fresh lichis which he had found in market at an exorbitant price. And so it became a settled thing for him to call to her after dinner and ask if he might come for a moment with a new offering, or a bit of news;—and the moment lengthened to the entire evening while they talked or she sang;—and the wrinkled old Hawaiian grandmother sat in the shadow at the far end of the lanai, silent and watchful.
Also, he and the small David became great chums. David's circle of acquaintance had been so very limited that the advent of this tall, strong-armed man who could swing him about in wonderful circles and gyrations, and whose pockets were perfect treasure-houses of marvels, was a miracle of the Gods, and his joy in the friendship was unbounded. Heretofore his only playmates had been his mother and a tame mynah bird called Kuli-kuli, which means shut up, and was a remarkably utilitarian name, since it covered address and the constant necessary admonition in the same breath. The bird had been brought in as a tiny fellow, by Fong, when he had fallen out of his nest; and after a period during which it took all of one person's time merely to stand by and fill the widely stretched mouth so full that it couldn't squawk eternally, the sprawling bird eventually evolved into a properly developed ​and proportioned mynah of dignified mien and buffoon disposition; and he and David became inseparable comrades. It has been said that mynah birds have a language of their own, and also that they can be taught to speak the human language; but in this case the reverse took place, and Evalani insisted that the bird taught David to speak its own language. At any rate, they would sit on the floor by the hour, playing and chatting away with each other, and David always insisted upon telling them of the various things that Kuli-kuli had said; and the remarks certainly were well adapted to what might be expected from such a source. And so, in this game, the little boy reached a point of being able to mimic the mynah's chatter with marvelous accuracy, even to the queer, plaintive little whine with a rising inflection which is the bird's note of inquiry and is always followed by flight. Their favorite sport was a sort of peek-a-boo, done with a newspaper folded to a stiff, tent-like peak, through which the bird would dash and peer out at his friend, and then David, lying flat upon his stomach, would grab at him and he would dart back and come slithering around on the outside, only to dash away again, squawking, when the small hand would make another grab. And then he would come stepping softly down through the tent again and the tip of his sharp bill would come poking out of the opening, followed by a shining black and yellow ​eye; only to dart back again as soon as David scrambled for him; and then he would flop up and settle on the youngster's head and give his hair a great wooling with claws and bill, and be off again before the boy could get a hand upon him. Great games they had, and Dick and Evalani would sit and watch them and laugh hilariously. And so the days and the weeks slid by and the Land O'Dreams was a beautiful land, and the land of stern reality did not exist, because they shut their eyes to the fact that their mountain was called Tantalus; but they only looked at its beauty and felt its breezes and called it good;—and for the moment, were happy.