"I tell you, I do believe that everything was made in six days."

"So you say, so you say," the old cannibal murmured soothingly.

It was not until after John Starhurst and Narau had gone off to bed
that Erirola crept into the chief's house, and, after diplomatic
speech, handed the whale tooth to Mongondro.

The old chief held the tooth in his hands for a long time. It was a
beautiful tooth, and he yearned for it. Also, he divined the request
that must accompany it. "No, no; whale teeth were beautiful," and his
mouth watered for it, but he passed it back to Erirola with many
apologies.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In the early dawn John Starhurst was afoot, striding along the bush
trail in his big leather boots, at his heels the faithful Narau,
himself at the heels of a naked guide lent him by Mongondro to show
the way to the next village, which was reached by midday. Here a new
guide showed the way. A mile in the rear plodded Erirola, the whale
tooth in the basket slung on his shoulder. For two days more he
brought up the missionary's rear, offering the tooth to the village
chiefs. But village after village refused the tooth. It followed so
quickly the missionary's advent that they divined the request that
would be made, and would have none of it.

They were getting deep into the mountains, and Erirola took a secret
trail, cut in ahead of the missionary, and reached the stronghold of
the Buli of Gatoka. Now the Buli was unaware of John Starhurst's