Their heroes were the swift of foot, like Achilles or Asahel; men who
could dash forward towards a crowd, hurl a spear with deadly
precision, and stand for a while tilting off with his club other
spears as they approached him within an inch of running him through.
They were ambitious also to signalise themselves by the number of
_heads_ they could lay before the chiefs. No hero at the Grecian games
rejoiced more over his chaplet than did the Samoan glory in the
distinction of having cut off a man's head. As he went along with it
through the villages on the way to the place where the chiefs were
assembled, awaiting the hourly news of the battle, he danced, and
capered, and shouted, calling out every now and then the name of the
village, and adding, "I am So-and-so, I have got the head of such an
one." When he reached the spot where the chiefs were met, he went
through a few more evolutions, and then laid down the head before
them. This, together with the formal thanks of the chiefs before the
multitude for his bravery and successful fighting, was the very height
of a young man's ambition. He made some giddy, frolicsome turns on his
heel, and was off again to try and get another victim. These heads
were piled up in a heap in the malae or public assembly. The head of
the most important chief was put on the top, and, as the tale of the
battle was told, they would say, "There were so many heads, surmounted
by the head of So-and-so," giving the number and the name. After
remaining for some hours piled up they were either claimed by their
relatives or buried on the spot. A rare illustration of this ambition
to get heads occurred about thirty years ago. In an unexpected attack
upon a village one morning a young man fell stunned by a blow.
Presently he recovered consciousness, felt the weight of some one
sitting on his shoulders and covering his neck, and the first sounds
he heard was a dispute going on between two as to which of them had
the right to cut off his head! He made a desperate effort, jostled the