The news had a quieting effect upon the natives after Kataafa’s talking man had given it to them in his loud, eloquent words. “A lucky strike,” Captain Scott exclaimed. “Now I think they will agree.” Kataafa, through his talking man, gave his word that all the conditions made by the Herzovinians were accepted. The white men rose and left the council. The temper of the people, as they passed out among them, was again happy. Smiles and hand-shakes met them on every side. The war shout was begun and thundered out in perfect time. “Kataafa Tupu-e-Kapua[29]--ah!” The people had declared their willingness to be declared rebels, and undertook to defy the chief justice. Klinger’s face shone with delight. The first move was successful. Only one more was necessary. Kataafa holding Ukula, while the few weak bands of loyal natives were driven into the bush by his well-armed cohorts, all the enemies of the Kapuan firm would be confounded. “So long as our consul has the backbone to hold out against the other two consuls,” he said aloud, “under the treaty no action can be taken by the war-ships. Kataafa, with nearly five thousand fighting men, can take Ukula and establish solidly his claim to the kingship.” Captain Scott shook hands with Klinger and the count. “This check I’m giving you,” Klinger said insinuatingly, “is subject to recall if I find you have not played square. You understand.” Scott smiled sadly. “You see, count, what it is to have enemies who constantly defame one’s character. Have I ever acted in any other way but square with you?” he asked. The count shook his head. “I haven’t examined the guns nor checked them over,” Klinger said by way of explanation. “I hope they are as you represent.” Scott bowed and walked quickly to the beach, where his boat and crew were waiting. The “fono” was breaking up. The natives, by villages, were marching down to the beach; their weird chants could be heard on all sides. Great war canoes, paddled by as many as forty warriors, were swiftly launched, and sent across the water to the “Talofa,” where they ranged alongside, tier upon tier. Kataafa, with half a dozen veteran chiefs, dressed in white shirts and “lava-lavas,” their fly-flaps or fuis held over their right shoulders, marched slowly down the street. The high chief stopped at the steps of Klinger’s house. He now talked without his talking man, but in Kapuan, and to Klinger.