UTU

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue IX, 3 March 1894, Page 208

UTU

By

TUA-O-RANGI.

CHAPTERS X. TO XII. •* The word ‘ Utu,’ meaning in Maori, revenge, is the keynote of the story The heroine, Eleanor Radcliffe, lives with her supposed father, Horace Radcliffe, at Radcliffe Hall in England. Her uncle, Roger, returns from India with a valet. Jacques The valet falls in love with Eleanor, and being annoyed at another lover, Captain O’Halleran, tells Mr Roger Radcliffe that he is really his son by a gipsy woman to whom he was legally married in Spain, and whom he accuses Mr Roger of murdering. As the price of his silence he demands Eleanor’s hand. Mr Roger declares she is also his daughter and Jacques’sister. Jacques still says he will marry her somehow. Roger dies, owns his daughter, leaving her his vast wealth. Eleanor lives with a Miss Toogood. She meets a French Count, De Pignerolles, who manages to break off by forged letters the engagement between her and Captain O’Halleran. Eleanor marries the Count and goes abroad with him. He wants more of her monev, and shows her the letters he has forged to and from the Captain. They return to Radcliffe Hall. She entreats the Captain to help her to get a divorce. The Count overhears, and next morning, telling Eleanor that he is really her brother, gives her a casket containing the apparently freshly killed heart of the Captain, administers a poisonous gipsy potion to the fainting and terrified girl, and leaves England. CHAPTER XIII. The scene changes to a Parisian cafe. Two gentlemen are talking over a projected excursion to New Zealand, which they call I'isle d'or. They wish to take with them a certain M. D’Estrelles who has money. CHAPTER XIV. The two gentlemen, D’Arblay and du Fresue, dine with D’Estrelbs. They are fascinated with his most peculiar-looking valet, Arnaud, who has the appearance of a mummy, his lashless eyes being very staring. Arnaud is to accompany the expedition to mesmerize the savages. CHAPTER XV. Two French frigates, the Marquis de Castries and the Mascarin, under Captain du Fresue and Lieutenant Crozet, start for New Zealand. I hey have on board two sailors who have previously visited the colony, Jean and Jacques. Over these two, Arnaud, the valet, acquires a strange influence. In May, 1772, they sight land. CHAPTER XVI. The first object to attract attention is a New Zealand war canoe, adrift, floating helplessly about, full of bodies. The adventurers approach it, and rescue the only two living Maoris. The others, who present a most gruesome spectacle, are thrown overboard. The two survivors are likely to prove useful as passports to I'isle d'or. CH PTER XVII. The two Maori patients rescued from the war canoes recover. One of them given up bv the doctor, is saved by medicine of Arnaud’s, the secret of which he refuses to give to the French doctor. CHAPTER XVIII. Arnaud makes great friends with his revived Maori. The custom of taint is partially explained to the Frenchmen, as their guests always throw their dishes overboard. Land is reached and the young chief invites Arnaud to go ashore with him, whilst the other chief, 1 aranui, proffers hospitality to the Captain and officers. CHAPTER XIX. Captain du Fresne chaffs Monsieur d'Estrelleson various visions which he complains have much disturbed his rest during the voyage out. Arnaud, his valet, is now ashore, but the trouble continues. The ships cast anchor, and Maoris in canoes approach, and are delighted to welcome back Taranui. The other chiefs of note to return the strangers’ kindness to their friend, invite them on shore, particularly Te Whatu Moan a. CHAPTER XX. The Frenchmen land, and are much astonished and impressed by the Maori whores am! by thecnstomsot the inhabitants, which are fully described. The Gauls do not care m>.ch for the grand banquets

and are horror stricken at the tangi held over the dead warrior who had been 1 >st in the war-canoe. They are lodged outside the Maori stockade, and fear no treachery. CHAPTER XXI. The Maoris pay a return visit to the French ship. The beautiful wife of Te Whatu is accompanied by her sisler, Rau-kata-mea, the belle of the party. She smiles at the French gallants, and M. d’Estrelles resolves to win her affection, whatever the risk. The following day the French officers pay a visit to a settlement up the bay. D’Estrelles excuses himself. Arnaud watches him. CHAPTER XXII. D’Estrelles goes on shore to find the Maori belle, and is disgusted to learn that she is actually the daughter of the chief whom the other officers have gone to see. He buys a smoked and preserved gia” 1311 head from a Maori chief in exchange for a small lookingCHAPTER XXIII. The visit up the bay is not a success. The old chief has colic, which the medicine man fails to cure. Arnaud, however adchie’f teFS 3n effectual dru ß’ aud wins the lasting favour of the old CHAPTER XXIV. About a week after, Captain Du Fresne when on shore sees the natives trying to resuscitate a half-drowned man by holding him over clouds of smoke. The Captain and D’Estrelles drink cognac in the latter’s whare. He again complains of ghostly visitants and noises. Ihe Captain says they are due to Arnaud and the brandy. ® I?? r° rea J Of the kbin £ a > where they are horrified by the sight of a tender of corpses. A maud smiles grimly.

CHAPTER XXV, LAUGHING LEAF’S TROUBLE — WHERE IS SHE * D’ESTRELLES’ PASSION—LOVE OR MADNESS ?

f, T might have been some ten days after the incidents related above that a youthful uahtne stood by the sliding door of a u/iare of the better sort in the kah<ga of Takori, Hiko-o-te-rangi, and, through a narrow chink, watched the arrival of several ; akrha visitors, whose appearance was, as usual, the signal for an uproarious hubbub of welcome. The girl, who was in the first blush of womanhood, evidently found the heat of the shut-up and fire-heated ivhare oppressive for her upper garment had been cast aside, and save for the clinging folds of a soft mat wound about her middle she was unclothed. Tall, strong, and finely developed ’ her limbs were firm and round, her skin like velvet and her figure that of a youthful Hebe. Waist in the modern sense she had none, for her vital organs had never been * cabined, cribbed, confined,’ by a straight jacket. As Nature’s God had designed her, so she had grown, without the aid of ‘ spoon bill busk,’ or ‘patent corset,’ for she was the daughter of a race of ignorant savages who believingin their simplicity that God made man, would have given their girls fits had they caught them trying to better the Almighty’s work. She was earnestly peering out through the chink she had made by drawing back the shutter a little, her soft lustrous eyes following the movements of the strangers while her parted lips and the rosy glow of her russet cheek betrayed an interest of more than ordinary kind lhe visitors were Messrs Du Fresne and D’Estrelles' Lieutenant Crozet, and the ship’s surgeon, with the usual following, and as the girl eagerly watched their progress, she now and again drew back from her post of observation, and in soft accents, varving with every shade of feeling, expressed her thoughts in Maori, which would translate something like this : ‘Ah ! He has come! He has come I And how handsome he is, the noble white stranger! How proudly he carries himself, like a chief of our people. His hair too, and eyes, are dusky as night. His skin

even is unlike that of the others. Sun and wind would soon tan it brown as that of Naku-roa. Naku-roa ? Hu! He is a rangatira, but to my eyes a tutua beside him him. HIM ! whom I love. Kowrat he bids me call him, but I may not. Ah ! how handsome is the stranger ! And see how his eyes rove hither and thither. He seeks the Maori maid, for he loves Laughing Leaf; he has said it. But, ah me ! My father is stern, though his child is dear to his heart. Oh, that he had not seen us together, for now I am to marry Naku-roa, and Takori has sworn by the bones of the dead to slay me with his own hand if I show aught of favour to one of the strangers, for he loves them not, and mistrusts their purpose in coming hither. He says they will return with many of their great flying ships, and drive the Maori from the home of his fathers. And perchance he is right, for my father is wise, and can read the heart, and knows what is in men. But, ah me ! my heart cries out for the love of this stranger, who whispers sweet words in my ear, whose very glance sets my pulses throbbing, and I long, oh, I long to press his hand and bid him take me for his bride. But, oh, my heart ! It can never be, never, never, never!’ and the lustrous eyes overflowing, Rau kata-mea sank upon the earthen floor in a paroxysm of grief. ******* ‘What has the old Cholera Morbus (the sailors had irreverently bestowed this nickname upon the chief Takori after their first inopportune visit) done with his charming daughter, I wonder ?’ said the captain aside to D’Estrelles when their visit had about half ended without the damsel appearing ‘ Just what I was wondering myself,’ replied the other. ‘ Could I see anything resembling convent walls, I should imagine the old devil had shut her up pending our departure. ’ ‘ Oh, as to that, convent walls are not indispensable. She may be peeping at us from some shut-up whnre. at this moment for that matter. But why should the old savage object to our looking at the girl ? She’s not the only pretty one in the kainga, parbleu !' ‘ True. But she’s hi* only one, and lam told he wants to keep her unattached, very likely with a view to bartering her to some ancient mogul of his own people.’ ‘ Oh, if he thinks of barter, he could do better with ours, for the maid is certainly handsome.’ A flush overspread D’Estrelles’ dark face. ‘ She is more than handsome,’ he said ; ‘ she is magnificent. A perfect Cleopatra, nar Dieu! But as to barter, Du Fresne. if you happen to know any of our people holding such hopes in regard to her, tell them they’d better give a wide berth to Conrad D’Estrelles.’ ‘Phew! Sets the mind so strongly, mon ami? I thought you a little touched, but pat bleu ! This looks like business. ’ ‘ It means business to this extent, that the girl shall be mine, or no one’s.’ ‘ You do not surely think of taking her back with you ?’ ‘ That is just what I do think of, my friend.’ ‘You are not infatuated enough to contemplate marriage, I suppose. D’Estrelles ?’ ‘Oh, as to that, we shall see. I might do worse, parti ieu! She is a splendid creature, and young enough to civilize, but, for all she looks so melting, as coy and reserved as a cold-blooded Englishwoman. I believe she is frightened. The old villain, her father, only half likes us, and has perhaps forbidden any flirting. Whatever be the reason, she keeps the curb on, though one can see she is naturally as impulsive as the rest of them.' ‘ She has the rangatira blood in her veins you know, and their self-restraint is, I consider, astonishing.’ ‘ There may be something in that, but not all. Some deeper reason underlies her reserve ; for that it require* an effort to keep it up is easily seen. But where cs«

she be to-day ? She has not been at Motu Arohia for days, and would hardly go to-day of her own accord. ’ ‘No; but if it be as you think, the old fellow may have packed her off willy nilly. But, by the way, what makes you suppose he dislikes us ?’ * It is self-evident in his manner, as you might see for yourself were you less confiding. Du Fresne. He is an out and out savage, looks on us as interlopers, and would pick a quarrel ’ with us in a minute had we not already secured the good graces of the others. As it is he is harmless, but he owes us a grudge all the same.’ * I think you misjudge him, D’Estrelles, although his looks are against him, I admit. But whether he likes the rest of us or not, there can be no donbt about his penchant for your inimitable valet.’ ‘ Aha ! No ; the rogue has “ set eyes ” on him to good purpose. I wish he would bewitch the daughter on my behalf. ’ ‘ Take my advice and don’t suggest it, mon ami, or he may do so on his own. But what shall you do if she says you nay ?’ ‘Wait till we’re on the eve of sailing, and then carry her off by main force, for I swear to you, Du Fresne, though I’ve had many an affaire d'amour in my time, I never wanted any woman as I want this dusky beauty. Whether it be her soft eyes or seductive form, I’m d d if I know, but I’m set on her, and her self-restraint fairly maddens me. By hook or by crook, by fair means or foul, she shall be mine if I die for it. And that I swear by all that’s holy !’ he added through his set teeth, his black eyes glinting fiercely, while Du Fresne looked at him in disapproving surprise.

‘ Yes,’ he repeated that same midnight as he restlessly paced the beach at Wai-iti, ‘ she shall be mine, I swear again. I’ve never failed yet with one of her sex, and I’m not going to be foiled now by an untaught savage, pardieu! But, ’pon my soul, there’s not much of the savage about her, after all. She carries herself like a queen, and is as gentle and soft as a baby. And yet, pardieu! as unyielding as flint. Yet I can see she would relent if she dared. She trembles sometimes, and flushes, too, when I talk to her ; but repulses me all the same, D n her I She’s harder to woo than any civilized belle. How can I get round her ? I must be growing imbecile or I’d soon find a way. I’ve cracked harder nuts, pardieu! But these broken nights are playing the deuce with me ; and perhaps, as Du Fresne says, I drink too much cognac. Certainly I take more than I used, pardieu ! yes, double. But what’s a man to do if he can’t sleep ? And why the deuce can’t I? I’ve always, till now, slept sound enough, even after but stow that. And I’ve had the devil’s own luck, too, lately with the pasteboard. Du Fresne says I stake too high, but Du Fresne is as timid as a woman. He’ll never set the world in a blaze, ■> ardieu ! no, and he’ll never find the gold we came for if I don’t prick him up. I’d have applied the goad before had I not been so piqued by this girl. But pardieu ! if the luck does not change soon we must seek the yellow, and find it too, or I need not go back to civilization. Beggary in Europe wouldn’t suit me at all. and my luck seems to have changed. Bah ! Luck, what’s luck ? Luck comes to the man who has pluck. I’ll drink more cognac, double my stakes, and playagain. Damn luck !

I must win if I play long enough. But this infernal sleeplessness ! What the devil can it mean ? And her voice, too, always in my ear. If I believed in spirits I’d think she was revisiting the earth, and had made a mistake in the latitude. But there are no such things as spirits. How often must I

repeat to myself that truism ? Bah ! my brain is softening surely. If there were—pardieu! I wish there were, for then there might be a devil, and he would surely aid his own. I’d make a compact with the old boy—sell him my soul—ha 1 ha ! —for this Maori Hebe, this untaught maid, who yet knows how to foil my every attempt. Par Dieu! She drives me mad. I can think of naught else. Come devil —if there be a devil—give me thine aid, and I promise to serve thee as thou wilt. Bah ! I might as well be in hell at once as here suffering the pangs of unsatisfied desire. God ! how I want that Maori girl ! Bah ! I’m a fool ! a double distilled fool! I’d sell myself to the devil, serve the Almighty, become a Maori even, to win her. Par Dieu! ’Tis infatuation. ’Tis worse. ’Tis crass idiocy. ’Tis stark, staring madness! Conrad D’Estrelles, thou'rt mad ! Get thee to thy whare, man, and drink cognac to calm thy brain.’ CHAPTER XXVI. PIERRE ROUGE —A NATIVE CONCERT — TWO DUSKY CHARMERS—OLD KAITANGATA’S SMOKE-DRIED POLL. ‘Patience, Pierre.’ ‘ Patience be d d! Have I not had patience ? But ’tis ever so. Always you preach patience, Arnaud. But I want revenge! Revenge ! I tell you.’ ‘ You shall have revenge, Pierre. But are you the only one then ? I have promised you yours, but I also, I must

have mine and lam enjoying it. You long to deal your enemy a death blow. I prefer to make his life a hell, and watch him writhe under it. Yet you too shall be satisfied, and ere long. ’ The red-haired giant, Pierre, a sulky-looking Hercules, muttered an oath.

‘So you have said a dozen times, mon garqon, butitseems no nearer, and I tell you I’m getting sick of waiting. When you persuaded me to come out on this voyage of fools, you promised me quick revenge, and gold to boot. As for gold, to all appearance there’s none here and vengeance seems no nearer. It strikes me, Arnaud, you’re playing double, but if so, have a care, for, par le diable! I’d as soon throttle you as him any day if I found it so. ’ While he was speaking the valet quietly removed his eye-shades, and without a trace of emotion in his thin brown face was looking at him fixedly. Pierre felt the gaze, although his eyes being cast, as usual, earthwards, he had not met it. ‘ Pierre!’ Involuntarily the ferret eyes were uplifted, and then Arnaud had him at his mercy. ‘ Pierre, I threw in your way the chance of coming with us, for I knew he had been false to you, and that you hungered for vengeance, but when you say I persuaded you to undertake this voyage, you lie, as you know. Nav, sheathe your knife ’ —for at the obnoxious word the red giant’s hand had closed upon his weapon, ‘ I fear you not. There are those who would avenge my death with bloodier utu than ever you have thought to wreak upon D’Estrelles, and to me death would be no punishment, man. I have dared it in a hundred forms. Life offers me naught but vengeance, and I have seen my enemy tear his hair and curse the day he was begotten. Death—death is sweet rest, heartsease, pain’s oblivion, and this boon you are in haste to bestow upon the man you hate. Such vengeance is that of the child, or savage, impatient to destroy, not that of a full-grown man, Pierre.’ ‘He would not esteem it a boon, however,’ muttered Pierre, morosely. ’ He loves life and

pleasure too well.' ‘ Life and pleasure ? Have your eyes, then, become dim since you left la patrie ? Have you not seen him grow thinnerday byday, normarkedhisgloomingeye, hisslower step, and sateless thirst for cognac ? Are these the signs

of life’s enjoyment ?' ‘ Bah ! He has been losing lately at play, that’s all.’ ‘Think you so?’ Then, after a pause, ‘ Pierre, have you ever lain awake at night haunted by the memory of your crimes ?’ ‘ jf’nsrdi'ew, no ! I’m not such a fool. Perdition ! Let sleeping dogs lie, I say.’ ‘ But suppose the dogs should awake and bark till they roused you. Suppose they howled at you in the night watches, until you thought each one a fiend sent to torment you before the time. Suppose the voices of those you have betrayed—and perhaps murdered— shrink not Pierre, you are not the only Cain who walks the earth—suppose these voices mocked your midnight misery, calling upon you ever to meet them at heaven’s tribunal, until, spite of your boasted Atheism, you found yourself trembling in abject fear of an Almighty Judge—would you be very happy, Pierre ?’ 'Pardieu, no,’ muttered the giant in his throat. But who says Conrad d’Est 1 elles suffers this?’ ‘ I do,’ replied the other gravely. ‘ And it is your work ?’ ‘ Partly it is mine.’ * And who has helped you ?’ ‘ Le diable. ’ ‘ I believe you, Arnaud. He looks out of your eves this minute.’' ‘ C'est bien, mon ami. Pierre!’ ‘ Well.’ • There will be a gathering to-night up there at the kainga, a native concert and dance, which will likely see the moon to bed. The captain and others will be there. Can you manage to come with them, think you ?’ ‘ Likely enough, but I want no infernal native music. I had enough of it the day we arrived to last me a lifetime.’ ‘ Oh, as to that, we are not bound to attend, though you might perchance like their dancing better. But I think I can promise to show you something that will please you better still.’ As the daylight faded away that evening the youthful inhabitants of Taranui’s kainga might have been seen trooping from all directions to the whare niatoru*. Lads and lasses of all ages, and not a few of the younger married folks, in single pairs or laughing groups, hurried on bound for one goal, forthis wasaspecial occasion, a show night, and their easily excited spirits were bubbling over. The Weeweesi were coming to see them dance, to hear them sing. Not merely the IPeewee* down there at the encampment—most of them lutuos, but the rangratt’r»«, all of them, very many. In honour of the occasion gala garments had been donned, handsomely fringed, brightly bordered ; faces had been painted, and heads, ears, and necks of both sexes lavishly bedecked with feathers and flowers, bone and greenstone ornaments. Theirtreasure boxes must have been ransacked, but among all their gauds never a glitter of gold appeared, nor indeed a trace ot any other metal, as the Frenchmen noted, some with sang froid, others with internal disgust. A lengthened programme had been prepared for the

delectation of the strangers, but—as the newspapers say when the reporter has not been round—we have not space for a detailed description, nor indeed would it be d screet, in view of the refined sensibilities of the present day, to describe too minutely the items of an entertainment which consisted but of varieties of the voluptuous Haka in all its primitive indelicacy. In some cases youths and maidens danced together, in others the sexes danced separately. Singing of love songs accompanied the dance, the best voices taking the verses, while all joined in the chorus, ‘ which consisted of a peculiar noise caused by repeated expirations and inspirations, slapping one hand on the breast, raising the other aloft and making it vibrate with great rapidity, and moving the body in indelicate attitudes.’ Some of the words were of sensual character, others irreproachable, as in this song: Song • Tawera is the bright star Of the morning. Not less beautiful is the Jewel of my heart.’ Chorus Ha ah-ha, ah-ha-ah ! The native music was very simple, and to unaccustomed ears rather monotonous, but many of the singers had sweet voices, and all correct ears for time and tune, and their one instrument, the flute, the best only capable of producing five simple notes, was managed by the players with no little skill. The whole exhibition was sufficiently novel and exciting to keep up the interest of the bulk of the visitors until the close of the evening, spite of the inconvenience caused to European nostrils by the want of ventilation. As usual in Maori houses, large and small, there were but two apertures—the doorway and a square in the wall. These were both open in deference to the wish of the pak“has, but as it had been thought necessary to air the room by an enormous fire just previous to the concert, the temperature, now that it was crowded with human beings, the bulk of them perspiring brownskins, was somewhat high to say the least of it. As the evening wore on, the more sensitive of the visitors contrived from time to time adroitly to exchange their places for others nearer the openings, all of them envious of Monsieur D’Estrelles, who had at first secured a position just inside the doorway, where he was lucky enough to share a soft mat occupied by two dusky belles, sufficiently attractive in themselves without the aid of the paint and charcoal with which they had streaked their faces. They were very enticing, brimming over with simple fun, and very appreciative of the bonbons with which D’Estrelles liberally supplied them, probably out of gratitude for his share of their mat. By and bye, as the odours within became more oppressive, and the cool moonlit atmosphere without more attractive by contrast, he prevailed upon them to forego the remaining items in favour of a stroll upon the beach, where the gentle lapping of the waves made a music infinitely soothing. As they strolled along in the waning moonlight, the merry chatter and frequent laughter of the maidens echoing through the quiet air, two figurespacing to and fro in the shadow of the village palisading watched their motions with something more than casual interest. * That gay gallant there seems not to suffer very greatly, mon bon gnrr.on,' growled the sailor, Pierre, to his neighbour, the soft-stepping valet. ‘ No, Pierre. He is not without spirit, and makes a brave fight, but a mouse might as well think to escape the claws of its captor, or a snared bird the fowler’s net, as he to elude his fate now.’ There was a concentrated hate, a deliberate purpose in the soft tones of the valet which Pierre had not marked before. ‘What’s your grudge against him, my boy?’ he enquired, his gruff tones showing quickened interest. ‘ Did he rob you of your sweetheart that you hate him so ?’ A quick gasp proved that the query had struck home, but the valet’s change of expression passed unnoticed in the gathering gloom, and after a pause he replied coldly : ‘ Enough, Pierre, that we both seek vengeance. You have your reasons and I have mine, and both shall be satisfied. ’ ‘ You are as close as an oyster, Arnaud,’ said the other, glumpily. ‘ But damn me if 1 care. He robbed me, anyway, perdition seize him ! and of something better than a wench. They are easily come by. But gol is not so plentiful—after all my scheming, too, and trouble, coaching him up. Without me he would have been still a vagrant, for all his cleverness ; but I put him in the way of a fortune, only stipulating that we should go halves. I might have demanded more, for without my help he could have done nothing, would have known nothing. But the villain robbed me of my share, secured the booty, and gave me the slip, d n him ! He disguised himself well, pardieu ! But he forgot how liate sharpens the eyesight.’ ‘As you forget sometimes, Pierre, that but for me you would still have been seeking him.’ ‘I don't forget, Arnaud, pardieu! But tell me how came you to know anything of my affairs ?’ ‘ Another time, Pierre. See, those promenaders there are nearly out of sight. Let us be going.’ Monsieur D’Estrelles and histwo companionshad sauntered chattering along the beach until within sight of the French encampment, and then the girls readily accepted his invitation to go up to his wAare for more bonbons. At the door the threelingered awhile watchingtheyoungmoon drop down behind the horizon, and when its last glimmer died he invited them inside, proceeding himself to light a small lamp upon a stand improvised by the deftfingered Arnaud, to whose natty care the whare did credit. Soft mats everywhere concealed the earthen floor, while absorbing possible damps, but the furniture was of the simplest. Upon a bunk at the far end a downy bed was heaped with thick rugs, for Monsieur loved to lie soft and warm ; but a small table, campstool, his travelling case, and the lamp stand were the only other articles, if sundry liqueur bottles and glasses piled on a tray and the tatooed head bracketed to the • Assembly room where the native youth met to sing, dance and otherwise while awny their winter evenings ♦ Probably derived from the French affirmative.

centre post be excepted. The voluble interest aroused in the lively damsels by old Kaitangata’s poll afforded ample subject for jest and laughter, and mnch grimacing, while from his case Monsieur produced more bonbons. The whnre was cool and sweet, but d’Estrelles, who always felt stifled within narrow walls, went to the window and drew back the slide, thus admitting a current of air, whereat the girls exclaimed, for to the Maori fresh air at night was a thing intolerable. He warmed them, however, with a mouthful of diluted cognac after satisfying his own more ardent thirst, and again they fell to discussing the defunct chiefs head. ‘Kaitangata’s a queer name,’ said the host in very poor Maori. ‘lt means manfood, does it not?’ ‘ Kahore ’ (no), quoth the girls, laughing immoderately, and D’Estrelles, out of civility, laughed with them, and then they all stopped suddenly, and stared first at the head and then at each other, for each one could have sworn, that the dead head was laughing too —not a laugh full of mirth and melody like their own, but a wheezy, whistling, cracked kind of laugh, such as the old sinner’s rough throat might have given forth in life. The girls drew instinctively nearer each other, but D’Estrelles, affecting unconsciousness, asked nonchalantly: ‘ What, then, does it mean ?’ ‘lt means man-eater,’ they replied, almost in a whisper, glancing timidly at the skull, as if half-afraid that it had not yet wholly lost its former predilections. ‘ Man-eater I’ echoed D’Estrelles. •Do your people then really eat human beings ?’ With another glance at the head : ‘ Kapai te tangata kai,’* they said, and laughed again, very softly this time. To their unutterable horror their speech was echoed from the tight-drawn lips of the dried face looking down on them. In harsh guttural tones the words came back. ‘ Kapai te tangata kai ! K apai! Ha-ha-ha !’ And as the crackling laughter smote on the air, the terrified damsels turned and fled, screaming as if the devil was at their heels. Monsieur d’Estrelles became pale as death, and trembled visibly, but he stood his ground, with eyes fixed upon the skull, and the yells of the flying girls ringing in his ears. s 6 A few unpleasant seconds passed thus, then gulping down a copious draught of brandy, he stepped up to the centre post, and shaking his fist at old Kaitangata, ‘ Devil!’ he cried, ‘ I defy thee !’ ‘Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha !’ Again that dreadful laugh echoed through the all but empty srhare. ‘ Damnation !’ yelled D’Estrelles, as, mad with rage, and bold with brandy, he se’zed the head and shook it savagely. The thing laughed in his hands, muttering maliciously, ‘ Katahi te tangata porangi (what a fool you are) !’ In a. paroxysm of fear and fury, and with a string of maledictions, Monsieur flung it violently from him to the farthest end of the vhare, and as it fell with a sounding crack, it groaned horribly, muttering, ‘ Ka. kino ia koe (you are a bad one).’ Monsieur d’Estrelles waited for no more, but rushing from the place, sought in the cool night air some relief to his throbbing brain. As he darted out of the doorway, two figures glided swiftly behind a contiguous hut and silently disappeared into the darkness. * Man’s flesh is very good.

(To be continued.