djusted his clothes on his five-foot frame as
he stood up; and said: "Say you ought to hear my partner in Chicago when
he lets out. He's an artist!"

This Man from the West was evidently foreordained to play a part in the
destinies of Blithelygo and myself, for during two years of travel he
continuously crossed our path. His only becoming quality was his ample
extravagance. Perhaps it was the bountiful impetus he gave to the
commerce of Honolulu, and the fact that he talked of buying up a portion
of one of the Islands for sugar-planting, that induced the King to be
gracious to him. However that might be, when Blithelygo and I joined his
Majesty at Hilo to visit the extinct volcano of Kilauea, there was the
American coolly puffing his cigar and quizzically feeling the limbs and
prodding the ribs of the one individual soldier who composed the King's
body-guard. He was not interested in our arrival further than to give us
a nod. In a pause that followed our greetings, he said to his Majesty,
while jerking his thumb towards the soldier: "King, how many of 'em have
you got in your army?"

His Majesty blandly but with dignity turned to his aide-de-camp and
raised his eyebrows inquiringly. The aide-de-camp answered: "Sixty."

"Then we've got 1/60th of the standing army with us, eh?" drawled Van
Blaricom.

The aide-de-camp bowed affirmatively. The King was scanning Mauna Loa.
The American winked at us. The King did not see the wink, but he had
caught a tone in the voice of the invader, which brought, as I
thought, a slight flush to his swarthy cheek. The soldier-his name was
Lilikalu--looked from his King to the critic of his King's kingdom and
standing army, and there was a glow beneath his long eyelashes which
suggested that three-quarters of a century of civilisation had not quite
drawn the old savage spirit from the descendants of Lailai, the Hawaiian
Eve.

During the journey up the Forty-Mile Track to Kilauea, the American
enveloped 1/60th of his Majesty's standing army with his Michigan
Avenue and peanut-stand wit, and not always, it was observed, out of
the hearing of the King, who nevertheless preserved a marked
unconsciousness. Majesty was at a premium with two of us on that
journey. Only once was the Chicagonian's wit not stupid as well as
offensive. It chanced thus. The afternoon in which we reached the
volcano was suffocatingly hot, and the King's bodyguard had discarded
all clothing--brief when complete--save