Free Sword in Sheath by Andre Norton

from the package into the dirty little paw.
    Both the boy and his loot vanished as Sam shook his head reprovingly. “Will you never learn, Dutch? In about a half a second that kid'll be back with most of the town mooching for handouts, and they'll hound us the rest of the afternoon Cigarettes are treasures they're not going to allow to escape them.”
    Fearing just such a development they quickened their pace and slid into a narrow lane between two nipathatched huts. Kane almost jostled a man hesitating there in the shadow, a man who dared to touch Sam's coat sleeve, a singularly bold move for a native.
    Only this was no Malay, Moro, or ex-head-hunting Toradja from the interior. At his first hissed word Sam stopped short to face a Japanese.
    “This is a small trader — on his beam ends,” Marusaki translated rapidly for Kane. “Wants to get out of here if he can manage to raise the price of a passage. He wants to show us what he has left for sale — ”
    “What about it? Story ring true to you?”
    Sam eyed the cringing man “Maybe eighty percent of it's okay. He's scared, clean through. I’d trust him as far as I could keep an eye on him. Says he just got in from the south and wants to get out of here — but quick. He's got the right idea at that — these islands are no place for his sort now — not if they want to keep their heads and their skins.”
    “Let's see what he's got to offer then.”
    The Japanese ducked into the least attractive of the two huts as if he had little liking for the open air ofManado. Once inside he made a great show of hospitality, tugging out two boxes to serve as seats, then opening up a wicker hamper.
    What he had to see was mostly worthless trash, odds and ends of island goods, tawdry and useless. But Sam made a sudden swoop into a muddle of small bits and came up with a large silver coin. He went to the doorway of the hut to inspect his find in the light.
    “Hey, what year was it that our American tea clippers first blew into these islands, Dutch?”
    “I don't know — back in the 1820s or ‘30s, I think Why?”
    “Looks like I'm holding a little memento of those days. U.S. silver dollar — date 1840. Wonder where our friend picked this up?” The Nisei loosed a flood of Japanese on the trader while Kane took the coin.
    Sam was right, it was a silver dollar from their own country, and fairly unworn too. How long had it been knocking around the islands? Ever since some Yankee skipper had parted with it perhaps a hundred years before?
    “Where'd he say he got it?”
    “He doesn't know. Was passed to him in trade somewhere south. He may be lying.” Sam shrugged. “It'd make a good lucky piece. I'm buying it.”
    “Did you ask him about the southern islands?”
    “That's a thought!” Again Sam launched into the hissing crackle of his ancestors’ native tongue, and his questions loosed a floodgate in reply. Kane caught the name ‘Hakroun’ repeated several times and never with either reverence or liking. Sam listened intently, interrupting now and again with other questions which acted upon the trader as might goads upon a maddened bull. But when the man seemed to be actually talked out, Sam took his wallet and counted out several bills. So in the end they left the little man bowing and hissing as if he had beenwound up by clockwork to perform only those two functions.
    “What did he have to say?”
    “Plenty. This Hakroun gent is practically running the trading hereabouts. Our friend back there did fairly well as long as the Japs were in power. But when they pulled out the old Moro took over — but good. The Hadji's frozen out most of the small traders now and has everything pretty much his own way. For one thing, he doesn't encourage any exploring expeditions to nose around south of Besi in the Soelas — ”
    “Now I wonder why?”
    “So do a lot of other people apparently. The consensus of opinion at present is that the old gentleman is onto something pretty big