cries of "Ante uppy!" or "Comely center!" When dawn came grayly
through the aisles of the grove, they halted briefly to eat a bowl
of _popoi_ and to drink the milk of freshly gathered nuts. O Lalala,
relaxing against the heap of his winnings, lifted a shell to his lips
and over its rim gave me one enigmatic look.

Whistling softly, I went down to the House of the Golden Bed,
breakfasted there without the aid of Exploding Eggs, and then sought
the governor. He had gone by the whale-boat of Special Agent Bauda
to an adjoining deserted island to shoot _kuku_. Hiva-oa was without
a government.

All day the madness raged in the cocoanut-grove. In the afternoon
the vicar apostolic of the Roman Catholic Church, supported by the
faithful Deacon Fariuu, himself toiled up the slope to stop the game.
The bishop was received in sullen silence by regular communicants. A
catechist whom he had found squat before the mat paid no attention
to his objurgations, save to ask the bishop not to stand behind him,
as O Lalala had said that was bad luck. The churchmen retired in a
haughty silence that was unheeded by the absorbed players.

Later the deacon returned, bringing with him the very matches that
had been kept in the church to light the lamps at night service.
These he stacked on the sugarcane mat. The vicar bishop followed him
to call down the anathema maranatha of high heaven upon this renegade
who had robbed the cathedral and the priests' house of every
_toendstikker_ they had held, and when he had again retired, the
deacon, dropping his last box on the woven table, elevated his hands
toward the skies and fervently asked the Giver of All Good Things to
aid his draw. But he received a third ace, only to see O Lalala put