t he had not shot the gun, but had merely carried it as a
reserve weapon in case he should meet a Chinese with whom he had a
feud.

A sailor of the schooner _Roberta_, who had stolen a case of
absinthe from Captain Capriata's storeroom aboard and destroyed the
peace of a valley to which he took it as a present to a feminine
friend, was fined five dollars and sentenced to four months' work on
the roads.

The criminal docket done, civil cases were called. The barefooted
bailiff, Flag, stole out on the veranda occasionally to take a
cigarette from the inhabitants of the valley of Taaoa, who crowded
the lawn around the veranda steps. All save Kahuiti, they had come
over the mountains to attend in a body a trial in which two of them
figured--the case of Santos vs. Tahiaupehe (Daughter of the Pigeon).

Santos was a small man, born in Guam, and had been ten years in Taaoa,
having deserted from a ship. He and I talked on the veranda in
Spanish, and he explained the desperate plight into which love had
dragged him. He adored Tahaiupehe, the belle of Taaoa. For months he
had poured at her feet all his earnings, and faithfully he had
labored at copra-making to gain money for her. He had lavished upon
her all his material wealth and the fierce passion of his Malay heart,
only to find her disdainful, untrue, and, at last, a runaway. While
he was in the forest, he said, climbing cocoanut-trees to provide
her with luxuries, she had fled his hut, carrying with her a certain
"Singaire" and a trunk. He was in court to regain this property.

"_Ben Santos me Tahaiupehe mave! A mai i nei!_" cried Flag, pompously.
The pair entered the court, but all others were excluded except me.
As a distinguished visitor, waiting to breakfast with the judge and
the clerk, I had a seat.

The Daughter of the Pigeon, comely and voluptuous, wore an
expression of brazen bitterness such as I have seen on the faces of
few women. A procuress in Whitechapel and a woman in America who
had poisoned half a dozen of her kin had that same look; sneering,
desperate, contemptuous, altogether evil. I wondered what
experiences had written those lines on the handsome face of Daughter
of the Pigeon.

Ben Santos was sworn. Through the interpreter he told his sad tale
of devotion and desertion and asked for his property. The Singaire
had been bought of the German store. He had bought it that Daughter
of the Pigeon might mend his garments, since she had refused to do
s