bids it, but do you suppose people don't
fish on that account? Why, a man goes out in his canoe and fishes
like mad. He brings in his canoe, and as he approaches the beach he's
blowing his pu, the conch-shell, to let people know he has fish. Fish
to sell or to barter? Not at all. He wants the honor of giving them
away. Now, if he makes a big catch, do you see, he has renown. People
say, 'There's Taiere, who caught all those fish yesterday.' That's
worth more to him than money. But if he could sell those fish, if
there was competition, only the small-minded, the business souls,
would fish. I'm not a socialist, but Aitutaki shows that, released
from the gain, man will serve his fellows for their plaudits. And,
mind you, no person took more fish than he needed. There was no greed."

"That's rot!" broke in Hallman, who entered the smoking-room. "The
natives are frauds. You've got to kick 'em around or bribe 'em to do
any work. Haven't I lived with 'em twenty years? They're swine."

"It depends on what you bring them and what you seek," said
McBirney. "Ah, well, it's getting too civilized in Raratonga. There's
an automobile threatening to come there, though you could drive
around the island in half an hour. And they're teaching the Maoris
English. I must get away to the west'ard soon. It's a fact there are
two laws for every inhabitant."

Would I, too, "go native"? Become enamored of those simple, primitive
places and ways, and want to keep going westward? Would I, too, fish
to be honored for my string? Would I go to the Dangerous Archipelago,
those mystic atolls that sent to the Empress Eugenie that magnificent
necklace of pearls she wore at the great ball at the Tuileries when
the foolish Napoleon made up his mind to emulate his great namesake
and make war? Would I there see those divers who are said to surpass
all the mermen of legend in the depths they go in their coral-studded
lagoons in search of the jewels that hide in gold-lipped shells? Was it
for me to wander among those fabulous coral isles flung for a thousand
miles upon the sapphire sea, like wreaths of lilies upon a magic lake?

The doldrums brought rain before the southeast wind came to urge us
faster on our course and to clear the skies. Now we were in the deep
tropics, five or six hundred miles farther south than Honolulu, and
plunging toward the imaginary circle which is the magic ring of the
men who steer ships in all oceans. Our breeze was that they pr