down four of the damnable bits of paper with three spots on each one.

At three o'clock next morning the game lapsed because the Tahitian
had all the counters. These he sent to his house, where they were
guarded by a friend. For a day he sat waiting by the sugar-cane mat,
and the Monte Carlo was not deserted. O Lalala would not budge to
the demands of a hundred losers that he sell back packages of
matches for cocoanuts or French francs or any other currency. Pigs,
fish, canned goods, and all the contents of the stores he spurned as
breaking faith with the kindly governor, who would recognize that
while matches were not gambling stakes, all other commodities were.

On the fourth day the canoes that had paddled and sailed to every
other island of the archipelago began to return. Some brought fifty
packets, some less. Dealers had tossed their prices sky-ward when
asked to sell their entire stocks.

[Illustration: A chieftess in _tapa_ garments with _tapa_ parasol]

[Illustration: Launching the whale-boat]

Now the game began again with the fierceness of the typhoon after
the center has passed. Men and women stood in line for the chance to
redeem their fortunes, to slake their rage, to gain applause. Once
they thought they had conquered the Tahitian. He began to lose, and
before his streak of trouble ended, he had sent more than thirty
packages from his hut to the grove. But this was the merest breath
of misfortune; his star rose again, and the contents of the canoes
were his.