capacity or moral rectitude or both. Ongoloo was one of
these. He did not believe in "war at any price." He thought it
probable that God lived in a state of peace, and argued that what was
best for the Creator must naturally be best for the creature.

He therefore tried to introduce a peace-policy into Sugar-loaf Island.
His efforts were not successful. The war-party was too strong for him.
At last he felt constrained to give in to the force of public opinion
and agreed to hold an unarmed palaver with the men of Ratura. The
war-at-any-price party would have preferred an armed palaver, but they
were overruled.

The Raturans chanced at this time to be in somewhat depressed
circumstances, owing to a sickness which had carried off many of their
best warriors and left their lands partly waste, so that their finances,
if we may so express it were in a bad condition.

"Now is our chance--now or never," thought the war-party, and pushed
matters to extremity.

On the day appointed for the palaver, one of the most pugnacious of the
Mountain-men got leave to open the deliberations.

"You're a low-minded, sneaking son of an ignorant father," he said to
the spokesman of the Raturans.

"You're another," retorted his foe.

Having disposed of these preliminary compliments, the speakers paused,
glared, and breathed hard.

Of course we give the nearest equivalent in English that we can find for
the vernacular used.

"You and your greedy forefathers," resumed the Mountain-man, "have
always kept your false eyes on our mountain-top, and you are looking at
it still."

"That's a lie," returned the man of Ratura with savage simplicity.

Had they been armed, it is probable that the palaver would have closed
abruptly at this point.

Seeing that the relations between the parties were "strained" almost to
the breaking-point, one of the less warlike among the Ratura chiefs
caught his own spokesman by the nape of the neck, and hurled him back
among his comrades.

"We have _not_, O valiant men of the Mountain," he said, in a gentle
tone, "looked upon your hill-tops with desire. We only wish to improve
our swamps, increase our sweet-potato grounds, and live at peace."

"That is not true," retorted the fiery Mountain-man, "and we must have a
promise from you that you will let the swamps alone, and not advance one
step nearer to the top of our mountain."

"But the swamps are not yours," objected the other.

"No matter--they a