them. We didn't care if he killed the half-caste. It was a
terrible beating. We weren't interested. I don't even remember
when Burnley ceased and let the poor devil crawl away. We were all
too dazed.

"Doc Strowbridge told me about it afterward. He was working late
over a report when Lyte came into his office. Lyte had already
recovered his optimism, and came swinging in, a trifle angry with
Kaluna to be sure, but very certain of himself. 'What could I do?'
Doc asked me. 'I knew he had it. I had seen it coming on for
months. I couldn't answer him. I couldn't say yes. I don't mind
telling you I broke down and cried. He pleaded for the
bacteriological test. "Snip out a piece, Doc," he said, over and
over. "Snip out a piece of skin and make the test."

"The way Doc Strowbridge cried must have convinced Lyte. The
Claudine was leaving next morning for Honolulu. We caught him when
he was going aboard. You see, he was headed for Honolulu to give
himself up to the Board of Health. We could do nothing with him.
He had sent too many to Molokai to hang back himself. We argued for
Japan. But he wouldn't hear of it. 'I've got to take my medicine,
fellows,' was all he would say, and he said it over and over. He
was obsessed with the idea.

"He wound up all his affairs from the Receiving Station at Honolulu,
and went down to Molokai. He didn't get on well there. The
resident physician wrote us that he was a shadow of his old self.
You see he was grieving about his wife and the kids. He knew we
were taking care of them, but it hurt him just the same. After six
months or so I went down to Molokai. I sat on one side a plate-