nce caused me to
mount the stairway, and at that moment the child was born.

Half an hour later she joined me in the river, and laughing back at
me over her shoulder as she plunged through the water, called that
she would give the child my name. That afternoon she was sitting on
my _paepae_, a bewitching sight as she held the suckling to her
breast and crooned of his forefather's deeds before the white had
gripped them.

CHAPTER VI

Visit of Chief Seventh Man Who is So Angry He Wallows in the Mire;
journey to Vait-hua on Tahuata island; fight with the devil-fish;
story of a cannibal feast and the two who escaped.

"The Iron Fingers That Make Words," the Marquesans called my
typewriter. Such a wonder had never before been beheld in the islands,
and its fame spread far. From other valleys and even from distant
islands the curious came in threes and fours. They watched the
strange thing write their names and carefully carried away the bits
of paper.

"Aue!" they cried as I showed them my speed, which would be a shame
to a typist.

Chiefs especially were my visitors, thinking it proper to their
estate and to mine that they should call upon me and invite me to
their seats of government.

So it happened that one morning as I sat on my _paepae_ eating a
breakfast of roasted breadfruit prepared for me by Exploding Eggs,
my naked skin enjoying the warmth of the sun and my ears filled with
the bubbling laughter of the brook, I beheld two stately visitors
approaching. Exploding Eggs named them to me as they came up the
trail.

Both were leading chiefs of the islands. Katu, Piece of Tattooing,
of Hekeani, led the way. His severe and dignified face was a dark
blue in color. His eyes alone were free from imbedded indigo ink.
They gleamed like white clouds in a blue sky, but their glance was
mild and kindly. Sixty years of age, he still walked with upright
grace, only the softened contours of his face betraying that he was
well in his manhood when his valley was still given over to tribal
warfares, orgies, and cannibalism.

Behind him came Neo Afitu Atrien, of Vait-hua, a stocky brown man
with a lined face, stubby mustache, and brilliant, intelligent eyes.
He mounted the steps, shook hands heartily, and poured out
his informed soul in English.

"Johnny, I spik Ingrish. You Iris'man. You got 'O,' before name. I
know you got tipwrite can make machine do pen. I know Panama Canal.
How is Teddy and Gotali?"

I ass