hich he always rode and
which, on occasion, could come down on the naked back of a stooping
coolie with a report like a pistol-shot. These reports were frequent
when Schemmer rode down the furrowed field.

Once, at the beginning of the first year of contract labour, he had
killed a coolie with a single blow of his fist. He had not exactly
crushed the man's head like an egg-shell, but the blow had been
sufficient to addle what was inside, and, after being sick for a week,
the man had died. But the Chinese had not complained to the French
devils that ruled over Tahiti. It was their own look out. Schemmer was
their problem. They must avoid his wrath as they avoided the venom
of the centipedes that lurked in the grass or crept into the sleeping
quarters on rainy nights. The Chinagos--such they were called by
the indolent, brown-skinned island folk--saw to it that they did not
displease Schemmer too greatly. This was equivalent to rendering up to
him a full measure of efficient toil. That blow of Schemmer's fist had
been worth thousands of dollars to the Company, and no trouble ever came
of it to Schemmer.

The French, with no instinct for colonization, futile in their childish
playgame of developing the resources of the island, were only too glad
to see the English Company succeed. What matter of Schemmer and his
redoubtable fist? The Chinago that died? Well, he was only a Chinago.
Besides, he died of sunstroke, as the doctor's certificate attested.
True, in all the history of Tahiti no one had ever died of sunstroke.
But it was that, precisely that, which made the death of this Chinago
unique. The doctor said as much in his report. He was very candid.
Dividends must be paid, or else one more failure would be added to the
long history of failure in Tahiti.

There was no understanding these white devils. Ah Cho pondered their
inscrutableness as he sat in the court room waiting the judgment. There
was no telling what went on at the back of their minds. He had seen a
few of the white devils. They were all alike--the officers and sailors
on the ship, the French officials, the several white men on the
plantation, including Schemmer. Their minds all moved in mysterious ways
there was no getting at. They grew angry without apparent cause, and
their anger was always dangerous. They were like wild beasts at such
times. They worried about little things, and on occasion could out-toil
even a Chinago. They were not temperate as Chin