By Rock and Pool on an Austral Shore, and Other Stories. Becke Louis

natives of the South Pacific. However, I was to have my own little joke at Viliamu's expense later on.

      Just at this time a sudden squall, accompanied by torrents of rain, came down upon us from the eastward, and whilst Marèko and his boys kept us head to wind—none of the canoes were anchored—I took the opportunity of getting ready two of my own lines, each treble-hooked, for the boys. Their own were old and rotten, and had parted so often that they were now too short to be of use, and, besides that, the few remaining hooks of soft wire were too small. As soon as the squall was over I showed Marèko what I had done. He nodded and smiled, but said I should try and break off the barbs—his boys did not understand them as well as native-made hooks. This was quickly accomplished with a heavy knife, and the youngsters began to haul up fish two and three at a time at such a rate that the canoe soon became deep in the water outside and very full inside.

      "A few more, Marèko," I said, "and then we'll go ashore, unload, and come back again. I want to tease that old man."

      We caught all we could possibly carry in another quarter of an hour, and I was confident that our take exceeded that of any other canoe. This was because the natives would carefully watch their stone sinkers descend, and use every care to keep them from being entangled in the coral, whilst my line, which had a 12 oz. leaden sinker, would plump quickly to the bottom in the midst of the hungry fish; consequently, although I lost some hooks by fouling and now and then dragged up a bunch of coral, I was catching more fish than any one else. And I was not going to let my reputation suffer for the sake of a few hooks. So we coiled up our lines on the outrigger platform, and taking up our paddles headed shoreward, taking care to pass near Viliamu's canoe. He hailed me and asked me for a pipe of tobacco.

      "I shall give it to you when we return," I said.

      "When you return! Why, where are you going?" he asked.

      "On shore, you silly old woman! I have been showing these boys how to fish for gatala , and we go because the canoe is sinking. When we return these two tamariki (infants) shall show you how to fish now that they have learnt from me."

      There was a loud laugh at this, and as the old man took the jest very good-naturedly I brought up alongside, showed him our take, and gave him a stick of tobacco. The astonishment of himself and his crew of three at the quantity of fish we had afforded me much satisfaction, though I could not help feeling that our luck was not due to my own skill alone.

      Returning to the islets we were just in time to escape two fierce squalls, which lasted half an hour and raised such a sea that the remaining canoes began to follow us, as they were unable to keep on the ground. During our absence the women and children had been most industrious; the weather-worn, dilapidated huts had been made habitable with freshly-plaited kapaus

      1

      ^{Literally, "clear crony."}

      2

      ^Port.

      3

      ^Happiness.

      4

      ^{A libertine, profligate.}

      5

      ^{My love to you, Pâkía; are you well?}

      6

      ^{White foreigners.}

1

^{Literally, "clear crony."}

2

^Port.

3

^Happiness.

4

^{A libertine, profligate.}

5

^{My love to you, Pâkía; are you well?}

6

^{White foreigners.}

7

^Frank.

8

^Small-pox.

9

^{An accordion.}

10

^{Idler, gad about—a Samoan expression.}

11

^German.

12

The Tokelau and Ellice Islanders are much amused at the white man's method of hauling in a heavy fish hand over hand. This to them is "faka fafine"—i.e., like a woman.