at the
opera. They encouraged the heroes and cursed the villains. Lovaina
was interested, but said:

"Those robber in picshur make all boy bad. The governor he say that
maybe he stop that Bill 'Art kind of picshur. Some Tahiti boy steal
horse and throw rope on other boy for lassoo."

When the screen was removed, a roped enclosure, a square "ring," was
disclosed. The announcer spoke in Tahitian of the signal achievements
of the two fighters, of their determination to do their best then
and there. The women cheered these declarations. Seated just below
me was a red-headed French girl, with perhaps a slight infusion of
Polynesian blood, who had a baby in a perambulator. Her strawberry
plaits dangled temptingly as she cooed to the baby. She was for Opeta,
the foreign competitor.

A white-haired Australian woman, with a strong accent, favored Teaea,
and when the Raratonga youth was winning, shouted to Teaea:

"'It 'im 'arder, Ol' Peet! 'E's outa wind! Knock 'is shell hoff!"

The Casino de Tahiti had two galleries, and in the topmost, at a franc,
five sous each, sat the little gods, as with us. Others were perched
on doors, on projections of cornices, and in every nook.

The fighters were naked except for breech-clouts. They were
barefooted. They wore their hair longish, and it appeared like
rough, black caps, which now and again fell over their faces and was
flung back by a toss of their heads. They were handsome men, framed
symmetrically, lithe, and healthy-looking. Their bodies soon shone
with the sweat. Their eyes, as soft as velvet to begin, grew fiery
as they punished each other. In truth, this punishment was not severe
from American prize-ring standards. The islander was unused to blows,
and the gloves were of the biggest size, such as those worn by business
men in gymnasiums.

Opeta had as seconds American beach-combers; and Teaea, natives. They
had all the pugilistic appurtenances of towels, bottles, etcetera,
and fanned and rubbed their men between rounds as if they were matched
for a fortune.

Teaea had a green ribbon in his loin-cloth. He was taller and heavier
than Opeta, but showed his inferiority quickly. They danced about
and fiddled for an opening, sparred for wind, and did all the fancy
footwork of the fifth-class fighter, but they seldom came together
except in clinches. The referee, the Christchurch Kid, was the
martyr, for he had to pull them apart every minute. The rounds were
of two minutes'