f other archipelagoes, despised of
the Samoans, and paying tribute to the lord of the soil--a few men in
war; a grudging hog in times of peace.

Here lived O'olo, a boy of twenty, whose chief-like face, and fine manly
bearing marked him as one apart in that nest of outcasts. He was of
Tongan blood, though all he knew of his parents was that they had
escaped from Nukualofa at the time of the Persecution, and had died in
Samoa when he was a child. Old Siosi, who had adopted him, could tell
him no more than that; not that O'olo asked many questions, being
content to drift on the ocean of life, and careless of anything save
what belonged to the day. He weeded taro, occasionally worked for
thirty-five cents a day at the unloading of ships; stole bread-fruit and
bananas up the mountain, and slept peacefully at night on the stones of
Siosi's floor.

If ever he envied the Samoans, the mood was brief, and seldom darkened
his spirits for long. To him the Samoans were a race above, with
splendid houses, and spacious lands, and a haughty contempt for such an
eat-bush at O'olo, the Tongan; and O'olo looked up at them mightily, and
respected them as a dog does a man, though sometimes he said: "I wish
God had made _me_ a Samoan"; and then the swamp appeared very dismal to
O'olo, and the huts mean and noisome, and the mallets seemed to be
pounding on his heart instead of the suddy bark.

Now it happened that a new clergyman came to the coral church on the
other side of the coconut grove, and what was more important to O'olo
brought with him a lovely daughter. O'olo did not know how important it
was till he first met Evanitalina in the path, and was so suddenly
stricken with her beauty that he had hardly the sense to make way for
her to pass. Slim and graceful, with her glossy hair gathered at the
nape with a ribbon, and her bright _lavalava_ kilted to the knee, she
gave O'olo a glance as sparkling as moonlight on a pool, all her young
womanhood alive to his confusion, and quick to divine its cause. Though
her eyes had scarcely dwelt on him an instant, she had seen enough for
her heart to say: "_Panga!_ What a handsome youth"; and was filled with
a strange elation in which there was a dart of pain.

On her return O'olo was still where she had left him, though in his
hand was a crimson _aute_ blossom that had not been there before; and
when she drew close he held it out, saying: "Oh, lady, here is a little
worthless gift!" She took i