Darting a look over my shoulder I noted to my dismay an enormous
land-crab towing our dory seaward. It was a harrowing moment. As agreed
upon, we waited for Triplett to take the initiative and in the interim
I took a hasty inventory of our reception committee. The general
impression was that of great beauty and physique entirely unadorned
except for a narrow, beaded water-line and pendent apron (_rigolo_
in the Filbertine language) consisting of a seven-year-old clam shell
decorated with brightly colored papoo-reeds. The men's faces were calm,
almost benign, and as far as I could see unarmed except for long,
sharply pointed bundles of leaves which they carried under their arms.
Their tattooing was the finest I have ever seen.

At this moment, however, my observations were concluded by Triplett's
suddenly wheeling and saying sharply, "Traprock! ... target practice!"
This was a stunt we had often performed for the amusement and
mystification of kindly cannibals in the Solomons. I had seen it in
vaudeville and taught it to Triplett. As was my custom, I had in the
pocket of my singlet a number of ship biscuit. Plucking out one of
these I placed it on my forehead and nose, holding it in place with
the index finger. Triplett leveled his Colt a good yard above my head
and fired, I on the instant pressing the biscuit so that it fell in
pieces to the ground.

The effect on the Filbertines was marvelous.

They were too simple to be afraid. Their one emotion was wonder. Then
Swank, grinning broadly, uttered the one word, "Cinch!"

To a nation which had never heard a word ending in a consonant, this