n his younger days and had adopted many
of their customs. On Sundays he always wore to church coat, trousers,
shirt, collar and necktie and boots (minus socks) and covered his bald
pate with a wide hat or _fala_ leaf. Moreover, he was a deacon.

Presently we heard voices, and a party of young people of both sexes
appeared. They had been bathing in the stream and were now returning to
the village. In most of them I recognised "customers" of mine during the
day--they were carrying baskets and bundles containing the goods bought
from the ship. They all sat down around us, began to make cigarettes
of strong twist tobacco, roll it in strips of dried banana leaf, and
gossip. Then Kala-hoi--although he was a deacon--asked the girls if
they would make us a bowl of kava. They were only too pleased, and so
Kala-hoi again rose, went to his house and brought out a root of kava,
the kava-bowl and some gourds of water, and gave them to the giggling
maidens who, securing a mat for themselves, withdrew a little distance
and proceeded to make the drink, the young men attending upon them
to-cut the kava into thin, flaky strips, and leaving us three to
ourselves. Night had come, and the bay was very quiet. Here and there
on the opposite side lights began to gleam through the lines of palms on
the beach from isolated native houses, as the people ate their evening
meal by the bright flame of a pile of coco-nut shells or a lamp of
coco-nut oil.

Marsh wanted the old man to talk.

"How long since is it that thy wife and sons died, Kala-hoi?"

The old man placed his brown, shapely hand on the seaman's knee, and
answered softly:--

"'Tis twenty years".

"They died together, did they not?"

"Nay--not together, but on the same day. Thou hast heard something of
it?"

"Only something. And if it doth not hurt thee to speak of it, I should
like to know how such a great misfortune came to thee."

The net-maker looked into the white man's face, and read sympathy in his
eyes.

"Friend, this was the way of it. Because of my usefulness to him as an
interpreter of English, Taula, chief of Samatau, gave me his niece,
Moe, in marriage. She was a strong girl, and handsome, but had a sharp
tongue. Yet she loved me, and I loved her.

"We were happy. We lived at the town of Tufu on the _itu papa_"
(iron-bound coast) "of Savai'i. Moe bore me boy twins. They grew up
strong, hardy and courageous, though, like their mother, they were
quick-tempered, a