s who might cut your throat. He had the whole island
to roam over now, instead of being cooped up like a chicken in a coop,
and we all noticed what a change in him it made for the better, throwing
off flesh, and not panting so heavy between the spells of his flute, and
walking with his head in the air like the island belonged to him.

He wasn't much of a fluter, playing mostly from notes, and often picking
them out so slow that you'd forget what the tune began like. He despised
simple things like "Way Down Upon the Suwanee River," and the difficult
things seemed to despise _him!_ But he stuck at it indefatiguable, and
blew enough wind through his flute to have sailed a ship. After
breakfast in the morning, which he took in his panjammers like me, he
would dress himself up nice in his Prince Albert, give his topper a
wipe, and start away with the flute and a roll of music in a natty
little case, like he was off to the Bank for the day. The only thing
that ruffled him any was the children, about eighty of them, who always
went along, too, and set in a circle around him when he played. I told
him they'd soon tire of tagging after him, which he said he was mighty
glad to hear; but if it was flies, they couldn't have been more
pertinacious. I spoke to the king about it, and Old Dibs he complained
to Iosefo, but it only seemed to whoop it up and add to the procession.
The king said if he'd just flute in one place, he would put a taboo
around it which neither children nor grown-ups would cross; but Old Dibs
said that the looking on, even from a distance, would be quite as
disturbing as being sprawled all over; and so the children followed him
unabated.

Then I had a happy thought, and suggested the graveyard! This was a
walled-in inclosure, perhaps a hundred feet each way, on the weather
side of the island, and on a windy day, with the surf thundering in, it
was the lonesomest spot where a man could find himself. The natives left
it alone at all times, except to bury somebody, and none of them came
nearer to it than they could help. The Kanakas have a powerful dread of
spirits, and even in the daytime they'd give the place a wide berth. The
walls, too, being about seven feet high, prevented the children from
peeking in, except at the gateway, which was so narrow that it was easy
to get out of view.

Old Dibs perked up at this and cottoned to the idea tremendous; and the
graveyard soon become his regular stamping ground, exce