“Don’t dear me,” the judge exclaimed, even more angrily. “Your treachery was public; my condemnation of it shall be public also.” Mr. Carlson’s face streamed with perspiration. He was a big man and inclined to be fat. His gorgeous uniform fitted like a glove. Under a torrid sun he was a picture of woe. The stranger whispered in the consul’s ear. Phil noted that the red face suddenly cleared. “You have misunderstood, judge,” Mr. Carlson began, not at all certain of his ground, but his voice gained strength as he continued. “I did not say he was Tupu[2] of Kapua. That you must decide. I only hailed Kataafa as Tupu. Being the choice of so many villages makes him Tupu. That was my meaning. Kataafa and Panu-Mafili are both Tupu, but neither is yet Tupu-e-Kapua.” Mr. Carlson was now smiling benignly upon the judge. Judge Lindsay made a sign of disgust. “Do you take me for a babe in arms?” he exploded. “How dare you insult my intelligence by such an absolute and unnecessary falsehood! Whether you know what you read or not, I do know. I heard and understood. You did not mince matters there.” He drew himself up haughtily and glared defiantly and for the first time at the stranger and Klinger. “The Kapuan language, to one who knows it, is not difficult. I advise you, Mr. Carlson, hereafter to stick to a language you know, otherwise your able co-conspirators will be putting embarrassing words into your innocent mouth.” A ripple of suppressed merriment rose unrebuked at the judge’s sally. Mr. Carlson seemed too dazed and worried to make any reply. The judge bowed ceremoniously, linking his arm in that of Mr. Lee, and walked away. CHAPTER II DISCORD AMONG THE WHITES The day after the ceremony of welcome to Kataafa, Phil and Sydney again accompanied their captain on shore. Commander Tazewell took a lively interest in everything that was going on and was delighted to have such enthusiastic young supporters. “You’ll find,” he said after they had landed and sent the boat away, “that the natives of both factions are equally friendly to us. That is a good sign and I hope it will continue.” The highroad of Ukula was filled with half-naked muscular men and lithe, graceful, dark-eyed women. Every native exhaled the acrid odor of cocoanut oil. The men’s long hair was plastered white with lime and tied on top in the form of a topknot. “The lime bleaches the hair red, you know,” Commander Tazewell explained, noting the lads’ curiosity at this peculiar custom. “The oil is to prevent them from catching cold. They go into the water, you see, any hour of the day, and when they come out they are as dry as ducks.” The officers had landed at Kulinuu, the traditional residence of the Malea-Toa family, from which many kings had been chosen and to which Panu-Mafili belonged. On every hand they encountered good-natured smiling natives. “Talofa, Alii”[3] was on every lip.