e, his hands are tabued. So in that way the barbers' hands are always
tabued, and they daren't use them for their lives, but have to be fed
like big babies--as they are, sure enough!"

"That's odd, Bill. But look there," said I, pointing to a man whose
skin was of a much lighter colour than the generality of the natives.
"I've seen a few of these light-skinned fellows among the Feejeeans.
They seem to me to be of quite a different race."

"So they are," answered Bill. "These fellows come from the Tongan
Islands, which lie a long way to the eastward. They come here to build
their big war-canoes; and as these take two, and sometimes four, years
to build, there's always some o' the brown-skins among the black
sarpents o' these islands."

"By the way, Bill," said I, "your mentioning serpents reminds me that I
have not seen a reptile of any kind since I came to this part of the
world."

"No more there are any," said Bill, "if ye except the niggers
themselves. There's none on the islands but a lizard or two, and some
sich harmless things; but I never seed any myself. If there's none on
the land, however, there's more than enough in the water; and that
reminds me of a wonderful brute they have here. But come, I'll show it
to you." So saying, Bill arose, and leaving the men still busy with the
baked pig, led me into the forest. After proceeding a short distance we
came upon a small pond of stagnant water. A native lad had followed us,
to whom we called and beckoned him to come to us. On Bill saying a few
words to him, which I did not understand, the boy advanced to the edge
of the pond and gave a low, peculiar whistle. Immediately the water
became agitated, and an enormous eel thrust its head above the surface
and allowed the youth to touch it. It was about twelve feet long, and
as thick round the body as a man's thigh.

"There!" said Bill, his lip curling with contempt; "what do you think of
that for a god, Ralph? This is one o' their gods, and it has been fed
with dozens o' livin' babies already. How many more it'll get afore it
dies is hard to say."

"Babies!" said I with an incredulous look.

"Ay, babies," returned Bill. "Your soft-hearted folk at home would say,
`Oh, horrible! Impossible!' to that, and then go away as comfortable
and unconcerned as if their sayin' `Horrible! impossible!' had made it a
lie. But I tell you, Ralph, it's a _fact_. I've seed it with my own
eyes the last time I was her