fled, to return with the king himself. They were a magnificent pair,
the king especially, who must have been all of six feet three inches
in height. His features had the eagle-like quality that is so
frequently found in those of the North American Indian. He had been
molded and born to rule. His eyes flashed as he listened, but right
meekly he obeyed McAllister's command to fetch a couple of hundred of
the best dancers, male and female, in the village. And dance they did,
for two mortal hours, under that broiling sun. They did not love him
for it, and little he cared, in the end dismissing them with abuse and
sneers.

The abject servility of those magnificent savages was terrifying. How
could it be? What was the secret of his rule? More and more I puzzled
as the days went by, and though I observed perpetual examples of his
undisputed sovereignty, never a clew was there as to how it was.

One day I happened to speak of my disappointment in failing to trade
for a beautiful pair of orange cowries. The pair was worth five pounds
in Sydney if it was worth a cent. I had offered two hundred sticks of
tobacco to the owner, who had held out for three hundred. When I
casually mentioned the situation, McAllister immediately sent for the
man, took the shells from him, and turned them over to me. Fifty
sticks were all he permitted me to pay for them. The man accepted the
tobacco and seemed overjoyed at getting off so easily. As for me, I
resolved to keep a bridle on my tongue in the future. And still I
mulled over the secret of McAllister's power. I even went to the
extent of asking him directly, but all he did was to cock one eye,
look wise, and take another drink.

One night I was out fishing in the lagoon with Oti, the man who had