[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

158 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

and more men kept joining us, till we formed a big,
jolly crowd. The population here seemed very
primitive, and evidently had but little contact with
the shore, but they were clean and comparatively
healthy and flourishing, and I found them rather
more frank, childlike and confiding than others I
had seen.

We roasted our yam, and while we were enjoying
our frugal but delicious meal, I witnessed rather an
amusing episode. A bushman, painted black for
mourning, suddenly called to one of my boys, and
wanted to shake hands with him. My boy, a respect-
able “schoolboy,” was visibly annoyed by the idea
of having anything to do with a naked “man-bush,”
and behaved with icy reserve ; but he could not long
resist the rural cordiality of the other, and presently
resigned himself to his fate, and made friends. It
turned out that they had once worked together in
Vila, and one had become an elegant young swell,
while the other returned to simple country life.

On the way back we rested by the river-bank,
amusing ourselves by shooting pigeons with pistols
and guns, feeling quite peaceful and happy. But the
sound of our shots had an unexpected effect in the
village where I had left the rest of my boys. All
the natives jumped to their feet, shouting, “ Did we
not tell you that they would kill your master? Now
you have heard them ; he is dead, and now we will see
what you have in your boxes and divide it among
ourselves.”

They approached my boys threateningly, where-