"Yes, till I am a warrior," said the boy; "then they will tattoo my
forehead, and arms, and breast, and legs."

"Tattoo? what's that!"

"Make little holes, and lines all over the skin with a sharp shell,
and rub in juice that turns it all to blue and purple lines."

"But doesn't it hurt dreadfully?" asked Lucy.

"Hurt! to be sure it does, but that will show that I am brave. When
father comes home from the war he paints himself white."

"White?"

"With lime made by burning coral, and he jumps and dances and shouts.
I shall go to the war one of these days."

"Oh no, don't!" said Lucy, "it is horrid."

The boy laughed, but the little girl whispered, "Good white men say
so. Some day Lavo will go and learn, and leave off fighting."

Lavo shook his head. "No, not yet; I will be brave chief and warrior
first,--bring home many heads of enemies."

"I--I think it nice to be quiet," said Lucy; "and--and--won't you
have some dinner?"

"Have you baked a pig?" asked Lavo.