all with a family that had the head
of my dead wife's relation cut off and carried with gapers and cries of
joy down the main street of Apia and past my place of peeziness!"

"Do you mean to say it's all off with you and Rosalie?" I demanded.

Silver Tongue nodded grimly. "All off," he said.

"And you're going to break my girl's heart," I cried with what I think,
under the circumstances, was a very justifiable indignation, "because
the son of the aunt of your father-in-law has had his head cut off by
poor Rosalie's adopted uncle?"

"That's right," said Silver Tongue.

"Old friend," I said, "let me go before I say something I might regret."
I got up without waiting for any answer and strode into the street, too
consumed with anger to utter another word. I walked along the beach,
stopping here and there to discuss the news of the battle with those of
my friends I happened to meet, until at last I passed Savalalo and drew
near To'oto'o's house at Songi. Rosalie was standing at the gate, and
when she saw me she ran up, threw her arms round my neck and kissed me.
I had never known her so excited or so gay, and even in the dark I could
see that her beautiful eyes were shining.

"Captain," she said, giving me a hug, "nobody will ever say a word
against To'oto'o again, or try to belittle him as they used to, just
because he's poor and lives on Seu's land, for to-day he fought like a
lion and covered himself with glory!"

"Took a head, or something?" I said.

"A hero!" she exclaimed. "They are composing a song in his honor; all
Songi is ringing with his name; and he was complimented for his valor by
the President and Chief Justice! You must come in and see it at once."

"See what?" I asked.

"The head!" she cried.

* * * * *

I haven't the heart to write how the news was broken to Rosalie, who
steadfastly refused to believe the truth until she had heard it from
Silver Tongue himself. I had hoped he might relent, with a night to
think it over and a letter from myself in the morning pointing out his
injustice and folly. Perhaps, now I remember it, that letter was a
mistake. It was a trifle warm in spots, and I dare say I let a natural
irritation get the better of me. Be that as it may, Oppenstedt was deaf
to reason and protested with undiminished vehemence that he refused to
ally himself with the family of a murderer. Indeed, so ridiculous did he
get on the subject that he sent to Sydne