e was half Chinese; her
father's soul was concerned. He had died in this very room. To save
his face in death she would give back even her interest in the
Golden Bed, she would pledge all that Great Fern possessed, if I
would give her only a few matches.

Her pleas could only be hopeless. There was not a match in the cabin.

Together we returned to the cocoanut-grove. O Lalala still sat
calmly winning the matches, the supply of which was from time to
time replenished by panting newcomers. He swept the mat clean at
every valuable pot.

His only apparent advantage was that he made the rules whenever
questions arose. He was patient in all disputes, yielding in small
matters, but he was as the granite rocks of the mountain above him
when many matches were at stake. With solemnity he invoked the name
of Hoy-lee, the mysterious person who had fixed immutably the
_tapus_ of pokaree. He made an occult sign with his thumb against
his nose, and that settled it. If any one persisted in challenging
this _tiki_ he added his other thumb to the little finger of his
first symbol, and said, "Got-am-to-hellee!" As a last recourse, he
would raise his crutch and with public opinion supporting him would
threaten to invoke the law against gambling and stop the game if
disputation did not cease.

Steadily the pile of Swedish _toendstikkers_ grew behind him. All
through the night the game raged beneath the light of the candlenuts,
in a silence broken only by the hoarse breathing of the crouching
brown men, the sandy-sounding rustle of the palm-fronds overhead, and
cries of "Ante uppy!" or "Comely center!" When dawn came grayly
through the aisles of the grove, they halted briefly to eat a bowl
of _popoi_ and to drink the milk of freshly gathered nuts. O Lalala,
relaxing against the heap of his winnings, lifted a shell to his lips
and over its rim gave me one enigmatic look.

Whistling softly, I went down to the House of the Golden Bed,
breakfasted there without the aid of Exploding Eggs, and then sought
the governor. He had gone by the whale-boat of Special Agent Bauda
to an adjoining deserted island to shoot _kuku_. Hiva-oa was without
a government.

All day the madness raged in the cocoanut-grove. In the afternoon
the vicar apostolic of the Roman Catholic Church, supported by the
faithful Deacon Fariuu, himself toiled up the slope to stop the game.
The bishop was received in sullen silence by regular communicants. A
catechist whom he