duration, and the rests one minute. After seven very
tame rounds, the spectators became angered, and in the eighth Teaea
went down, and took the count of ten on his hands and feet, warily
watching his opponent. In the ninth, Opeta, excited by the demands of
the gallery, slugged him in the head. Teaea sought the boards again,
and the counting of ten by the referee began.

The Mataiea boxer was on his back, but his glazing eyes stared
reproachfully at Opeta. The latter, now clearly the victor, glanced
at the red-headed girl, who was dancing on the floor beside her
perambulator and waving her congratulations. The house was on its feet
yelling wildly to Teaea to rise. Those who had bet on him were calling
him a knave and a coward, while Opeta's backers were imploring him
to kill Teaea if he stood up. The Raratonga champion became excited,
confused and when Teaea, at the call of eight, cautiously turned over
and lifted his head, he struck him lightly.

The inhabitants of the country districts vociferated in one voice:

"Uahani! Uahani!"

"Faufau! Faufau!" cried the gods.

"Foul! Foul! 'E 'it' im, 'hand' e's hon 'is 'ands hand kneeses,"
exclaimed the Australian woman.

The audience took up the chorus in French, Tahitian, and
English. Though Opeta had won them all by his ability and fairness
and was plainly the better man, the sentiment was for the rules. The
Christchurch Kid thought a moment, and conferred with the announcer,
who talked with all the seconds. The spectators were insistent,
and though loath to end the show, the Kid held up the gloved hand of
the Mataiean.

The announcer declared him the "champignon" of Papeete, but naively
declared that Opeta was still full of fight, and challenged the
universe. The Raratonga man was dumfounded at the result of his
forgetfulness, and gazed coldly and accusingly at the red plaits. The
people, too, now regretted their enthusiasm for the right, which had
shortened their program of rounds, and demanded that the battle go
on. But the band had left, the lights were dimmed, and gradually the
crowd departed.

The Australian waited to shake the hand of her knight, to whom
she said:

"I bloomin' well knew you 'd do 'im hup! 'E's got nothin' hin 'is
right. 'E's a runaw'y, 'e is."

David and I went into the buffet of the cinema after the fight to
hear the arguments over it, and he to collect bets. He had chosen the
winner by the toss of a coin. The French Governor of the Pau