ngth upon the beach, most of the swimmers slid back into the
trough behind; others, slipping off their boards, seized them in their
hands, and plunging through the watery waste, swam out to repeat the
amusement; but a few, who seemed to me the most reckless, continued
their career until they were launched upon the beach and enveloped in
the churning foam and spray. One of these last came in on the crest of
the wave most manfully, and landed with a violent bound almost on the
spot where Bill and I stood. I saw by his peculiar head-dress that he
was the chief whom the tribe entertained as their guest. The sea-water
had removed nearly all the paint with which his face had been covered,
and as he rose panting to his feet, I recognised, to my surprise, the
features of Tararo, my old friend of the Coral Island!

Tararo at the same moment recognised me, and advancing quickly, took me
round the neck and rubbed noses, which had the effect of transferring a
good deal of the moist paint from his nose to mine. Then, recollecting
that this was not the white man's mode of salutation, he grasped me by
the hand and shook it violently.

"Hallo, Ralph!" cried Bill in surprise, "that chap seems to have taken a
sudden fancy to you, or he must be an old acquaintance."

"Right, Bill," I replied; "he is indeed an old acquaintance." And I
explained, in a few words, that he was the chief whose party Jack and
Peterkin and I had helped to save.

Tararo having thrown away his surf-board, entered into an animated
conversation with Bill, pointing frequently during the course of it to
me, whereby I concluded he must be telling him about the memorable
battle and the part we had taken in it. When he paused I begged of Bill
to ask him about the woman Avatea, for I had some hope that she might
have come with Tararo on this visit. "And ask him," said I, "who she
is, for I am persuaded she is of a different race from the Feejeeans."
On the mention of her name the chief frowned darkly, and seemed to speak
with much anger.

"You're right, Ralph," said Bill when the chief had ceased to talk;
"she's not a Feejee girl, but a Samoan. How she ever came to this place
the chief does not very clearly explain; but he says she was taken in
war, and that he got her three years ago, an' kept her as his daughter
ever since. Lucky for her, poor girl, else she'd have been roasted and
eaten like the rest."

"But why does Tararo frown and look so angry?" said