ken two hundred
and fifteen heads, and were now returning home--well satisfied.

Morel and I went on board one of the great canoes, and were received in
a very friendly manner, and shown many heads--some partly dried, some
too fresh, and unpleasant-looking.

These head-hunting pirates were not cannibals, and behaved in an
extremely decorous manner when they visited our ship. A finer, more
stalwart, proud, self-possessed, and dignified lot of savages--if they
could be so termed--I had never before seen.

They left Krauel bay two days later, without interfering with the people
on shore, and Morel and I shook hands, and rubbed noses with the leading
head-hunters, when we said farewell.

CHAPTER XXVII ~ PAUTOE

"Please, good White Man, wilt have me for _tavini_ (servant)?"

Marsh, the trader, and the Reverend Harry Copley, the resident
missionary on Motumoe, first looked at the speaker, then at each other,
and then laughed hilariously.

A native girl, about thirteen years of age, was standing in the trader's
doorway, clad only in a girdle of many-hued dracaena leaves. Her long,
glossy black hair fell about her smooth red-brown shoulders like
a mantle, and her big, deer-like eyes were filled with an eager
expectancy.

"Come hither, Pautoe," said the missionary, speaking to the girl in the
bastard Samoan dialect of the island. "And so thou dost want to become
servant to Marsi?"

Pautoe's eyes sparkled.

"Aye," she replied, "I would be second _tavini_ to him. No wages do I
want, only let him give me my food, and a mat upon which to sleep, and I
shall do much work for him--truly, much work."

The missionary drew her to him and patted her shoulder.

"Dost like sardines, Pautoe?"

She clasped her hands over her bosom, and looked at him demurely from
underneath her beautiful long-lashed eyes, and then her red lips parted
and she showed her even, pearly teeth as she smiled.

"Give her a tin of sardines, and a biscuit or two, Marsh," said the
parson, "she's one of my pupils at the Mission House. You remember Bret
Harte's story, _The Right Eye of the Spanish Commander_, and the little
Indian maid Paquita? Well, this youngster is my Paquita. She's a most
intelligent girl." He paused a moment and then added regretfully:
"Unfortunately my wife dislikes her intensely--thinks she's too forward.
As a matter of fact a more lovable child never breathed."

Marsh nodded. He was not surprised at Mrs. Copley disliking th