So it happened that one morning as I sat on my _paepae_ eating a
breakfast of roasted breadfruit prepared for me by Exploding Eggs,
my naked skin enjoying the warmth of the sun and my ears filled with
the bubbling laughter of the brook, I beheld two stately visitors
approaching. Exploding Eggs named them to me as they came up the
trail.

Both were leading chiefs of the islands. Katu, Piece of Tattooing,
of Hekeani, led the way. His severe and dignified face was a dark
blue in color. His eyes alone were free from imbedded indigo ink.
They gleamed like white clouds in a blue sky, but their glance was
mild and kindly. Sixty years of age, he still walked with upright
grace, only the softened contours of his face betraying that he was
well in his manhood when his valley was still given over to tribal
warfares, orgies, and cannibalism.

Behind him came Neo Afitu Atrien, of Vait-hua, a stocky brown man
with a lined face, stubby mustache, and brilliant, intelligent eyes.
He mounted the steps, shook hands heartily, and poured out
his informed soul in English.

"Johnny, I spik Ingrish. You Iris'man. You got 'O,' before name. I
know you got tipwrite can make machine do pen. I know Panama Canal.
How is Teddy and Gotali?"

I assured the chief that both Roosevelt and Goethals were well at
last account, and he veered to other topics.

"Before time, come prenty whaleship my place," he said. "I know
geograffy, mappee, grammal. I know Egyptee, Indee, all country; I