f either side, advanced to battle.

"The first time Honi threw his harpoon, he hooked my great-uncle. He
hooked him through the middle, and before he could be saved, a half
dozen of the Tiu men pulled on the rope and dragged him over the line
to be killed and eaten.

"Two more of our tribe Honi snared with this devilish spear, and it
was not so much death as being pulled over to them and roasted that
galled us. All day the battle raged, except when both sides stopped
by agreement to eat _popoi_ and rest, but late in the afternoon a
strange thing happened.

"Honi had thrown his harpoon, and by bad aim it entered a tree. The
end of the line he had about his left arm, and as he tried to pull
out the spear-head from the wood, his legs became entangled in the
rope, and my grandfather, who was very strong, seized the rope near
the tree, dragged the white man over the line, and killed him with a
rock.

"The enemy ran away then, and that night our people ate Honi.
Grandfather said his flesh was so tough they had to boil it. There
were no _tipoti_ (Standard-oil cans) in those days, but our people
took banana leaves and formed a big cup that would hold a couple of
quarts of water, and into these they put red-hot stones, and the
water boiled. Grandfather said they cut Honi into small pieces and
boiled him in many of these cups. Still he was tough, but
nevertheless they ate him.

"Honi was tattooed. Not like Marquesans, but like some white sailors,
he had certain marks on him. Grandfather saved these marks, and wore
them as a _tiki_, or amulet, until he died, when he gave it to me. He
had preserved the skin so that it did not spoil."

Haabunai yawned and said his mouth was parched from much talking,
but when a shell of rum was set before him and he had drunk, he
fetched from his house the _tiki_. It was as large as my hand, dark
and withered, but with a magnifying glass I could see a rude cross
and three letters, I H S in blue.

"Grandfather became a Christian and was no longer an _enata Ttaikaia_,
an eater of men, but he kept the _tiki_ always about his neck,
because he thought it gave him strength," said my guest.

I handed him back the gruesome relic, though he began advances to
make it my property. For the full demijohn he would have parted with
the _tiki_ that had been his grandfather's, but I had no fancy for it.
One can buy in Paris purses of human skin for not much more than one
of alligator hide.

"Honi must h