and the foul women, and to take away from her and the child the
bitterness of these things."

"You're a good fellow, Amona," said Denison, as he saw that the man's
cheeks were wet with tears.

"Nay, for sometimes my heart is bitter with anger. But God is good to
me. For the child loveth me. And the mother is of God... aye, and she
will be with Him soon." Then he rose to his knees suddenly, and looked
wistfully at the supercargo, as he put his hand on his. "She will be
dead before the next moon is _ai aiga_ (in the first quarter), for at
night I lie outside her door, and but three nights ago she cried out to
me: 'Come, Amona, Come!' And I went in, and she was sitting up on
her bed and blood was running from her mouth. But she bade me tell no
one--not even thee. And it was then she told me that death was near
to her, for she hath a disease whose roots lie in her chest, and
which eateth away her strength. Dear friend, let me tell thee of some
things... This man is a devil.... I know he but desires to see her die.
He hath cursed her before me, and twice have I seen him take the child
from her arms, and, setting him on the floor to weep in terror, take his
wife by the hand----"

"Stop, man; stop! That'll do. Say no more! The beast!"

"_E tonu, e tonu_ (true, true)," said the man, quietly, and still
speaking in Samoan. "He is as a beast of the mountains, as a tiger of
the country India, which devoureth the lamb and the kid.... And so now I
have opened my heart to thee of these things----"

A native woman rushed into the room: "Come, Amona, come. _Misi Fafine_
(the mistress) bleeds from her mouth again."

The white man and the brown ran into the front sitting-room together,
just as they heard a piercing shriek of terror from the child; then came
the sound of a heavy fall.

As they entered, Armitage strode out, jolting against them as he passed.
His face was swollen and ugly with passion--bad to look at.

"Go and pick up the child, you frizzy-haired pig!" he muttered hoarsely
to Amona as he passed. "He fell off his mother's lap."

Mrs. Armitage was leaning back in her chair, as white as death, and
trying to speak, as with one hand she tried to stanch the rush of blood
from her mouth, and with the other pointed to her child, who was lying
on his face under a table, motionless and unconscious.

In less than ten minutes, a native was galloping through the bush to
Apia for Dr. Eckhardt. Denison had picked up the child, w