hat every inch of the walls
was covered with stacked boxes of matches, yellow fronts exposed. On
his mat in the middle of this golden treasury O Lalala reclined,
smoking at his leisure, and smiling the happy smile of Midas.
Outside a cold wind swept down from Calvary Peak, and a gray sky hid
the sun.

I paused in the reek of those innumerable matches, which tainted the
air a hundred feet away, and exchanged morning greetings with their
owner, inquiring about his plans. He said that he would make a three
days' vigil of thanks, and upon the fourth day he would sell matches
at a franc a small box. I bade him farewell, and passed on.

The valley people were coming and going about their affairs, but
sadly and even morosely. There was no match to light the fire for
roasting breadfruit, or to kindle the solacing tobacco. O Lalala
would not give one away, or sell one at any price. Neither would he
let a light be taken from his own fire or pipe.

The next schooner was not expected for two months, as the last was
but a fortnight gone. Le Brunnec had not a match, nor Kriech. The
governor had not returned. The only alternatives were to go
lightless and smokeless or to assault the heartless oppressor. Many
dark threats were muttered on the cheerless _paepaes_ and in the
dark huts, but in variety of councils there was no unity, and none
dared assault alone the yellow-walled hut in which O Lalala smiled
among his gains.

On the second day there was a growing tension in the atmosphere of
the valley. I observed that there were no young men to be seen on
the beach or at the traders' stores. There were rumors, hints hardly
spoken, of a meeting in the hills. The traders looked to their guns,
whistling thoughtfully. There was not a spark of fire set in all
Atuona, save by O Lalala, and that for himself alone.

So matters stood until the second night. Then old Kahuiti, that
handsomest of cannibals, who lived in the valley of Taaoa, strolled
into Atuona and made it known that he would hold a meeting in the
High Place where of old many of his tribe had been eaten by Atuona
men.

Exploding Eggs, Malicious Gossip, and I climbed the mountain early.
The population of the valley, eager for counsel, was gathered on the
old stone benches where half a century earlier their sorcerers had
sat. In the twilight Kahuiti stood before us, his long white beard
tied in a Psyche knot on his broad, tattooed chest. His voice was
stern.

We were fools,