cked old man and his child. And
they wanted him to cease giving them food or shelter--then when the
"Katolikos" found themselves starving they would be glad to give up
the "evil" religion which they had learnt in Tahiti. Then would they be
baptized and food given them by the people of Maduro.

Macpherson tried to reason with Lilo. But neither he nor the
white-shirted, but trouserless, deacons would listen to him. And
furthermore, they gave him a warning--if Rime continued obstinate, they
would hold him (Macpherson) responsible and _tapu_ his store. Rime did
continue obstinate, and next morning the trader found himself _tabooed_,
which is a mere euphemism for boycotted.

"That's pretty rough on you, Mac," said Packenham.

"'Twill just ruin me, I fear. Ye see there's four other traders on this
island besides me, and all my business has gone to them. But what can
I do? The silly auld fule of a Rime won't give in, and I canna see him
starve--the damned auld Papist."

*****

At noon, as Packenham, with his supercargo and Macpherson, stepped out
of the trader's dwelling, and walked together to the Mission House, a
native went through the village blowing a conch. Lilo had agreed to meet
the white men and discuss matters with them. Already the big room in the
teacher's house was filled with people, who sat around the walls three
or four deep, talking in whispered tones, and wondering why the white
men troubled so much over a miserable old man and a wretched child, who
were both accursed "Katolikos."

As the captain and his friends entered, Lilo, the teacher, advanced to
meet them. He was a small, slenderly built man, with a skin scarcely
darker than that of an Italian, and very handsome features. After a few
words of effusive welcome, and a particularly sweet smile to Macpherson,
he escorted the white men to their seats--three chairs placed together
at the head of the room.

Presently there was a shuffling of naked feet outside, and five or
six young men entered the house, pushing before them an old man and a
girl--Rime and his grand-child. In the centre of the room was a small
square mat of coconut leaf--the Marshall Island prisoners' dock. With
limbs trembling with age, Rime seated himself cross-legged; the child,
kneeling at his back, placed her bony arms around his wrinkled body, and
clasped him tightly; her eyes, big, black, and mournful, filled with
the indifference born of despair. Then, as she saw Macpherson, a