tations, forced the unwilling islanders
to work for him, and dollar by dollar, with an iron will, he had
wrung from their labor the fortune now left in the dainty hands of
his half-savage daughter.

Song of the Nightingale, the convict cook of the governor, gave me
light on the man.

"I loved his woman, Piiheana (Climber of Trees Who Was Killed and
Eaten), who was the mother of Mademoiselle N----," said Song of the
Nightingale. "One night he found me with her on his _paepae_. He shot
me; then he had me condemned as a robber, and I spent five years in
the prison at Tai-o-hae."

"And Climber of Trees Who Was Killed and Eaten?"

"He beat her till her bones were broken, and sent her from him. Then
he took Daughter of a Piece of Tattooing, to whom he left in his
will thirty-five thousand francs. It was she who brought up
Mademoiselle."

Mademoiselle herself walked daintily down to the road, where her
horse was tied, and I was presented to her. She gave me her hand
with the air of a princess, her scarlet lips quivering into a faint
smile and her smouldering, unsatisfied eyes sweeping my face. With a,
conciliating, yet imperious, air, she suggested that I ride over the
hills with her.

Picking up her lace skirt and frilled petticoat, she vaulted into
the man's saddle without more ado, and took the heavy reins in her
small gloved hands. Her horse was scrubby, but she rode well, as do
all Marquesans, her supple body following his least movement and her
slim, silk-stockinged legs clinging as though she were riding
bareback. When the swollen river threatened to wet her varnished
slippers, she perched herself on the saddle, feet and all, and made
a dry ford.

Over the hills she led the way at a gallop, despite wretched trail
and tripping bushes. Down we went through the jungle, walled in by a
hundred kinds of trees and ferns and vines. Now and then we came
into a cleared space, a native plantation, a hut surrounded by
breadfruit-, mango- and cocoanut-, orange- and lime-trees. No one
called "_Kaoho!_" and Mademoiselle N---- did not slacken her pace.
We swept into the jungle again without a word, my horse following her
mount's flying feet, and I ducking and dodging branches and
noose-like vines.

In a marshy place, where patches of _taro_ spread its magnificent
leaves over the earth, we slowed to a walk. The jungle tangle was
all about us; a thousand bright flowers, scarlet, yellow, purple,
crimson, splashed with color t