The English and American consuls maintained a haughty reserve when they transacted business with the governor, as the natives called the count, but a semi-friendly relation was soon established between him and the naval officers. The count provided himself a new house, built within a month, on the bungalow style, but of native workmanship, and invited all to a dance given in celebration of the opening. The lawn in front of the house was on this occasion reserved for the Siva-Siva dancers. The count received his guests in the lanai. The stately figure of Kataafa stood by his side and all visitors shook hands with him most cheerfully as they entered to greet the host. Phil and Sydney accompanied Commander Tazewell. Alice and her sister came also, but Mr. Lee sent his regrets on account of indisposition. The mail had not arrived from home, and both the British consul and Mr. Lee considered it wiser in their official positions to refrain from an act which might savor of a recognition of the justice of the government. Judge Lindsay returned his invitation unopened. The house was decorated profusely with bright bush flowers, and their perfume mingling with the odor of cocoanut oil with which all Kapuans plentifully adorn their skins, gave the occasion a distinction which remained long in Phil’s memory. Herzovinian and Kapuan flags entwined were everywhere in evidence. Everybody of any consequence, whatever their nationality, was there and the count moved at ease among them. He was, however, particularly attentive to the American commander. The best Siva-Siva dancers had been collected, and as the house was entirely too small for the European dances, the guests were soon gathered on the lawn, where many chairs and benches had been placed. Two great bonfires had been built to furnish light in order to see the graceful movements of the dancers. The count had escorted Commander Tazewell to the lawn. Phil and his friends fell in behind and found themselves in the front row where an excellent view was to be had when the dancers appeared. “Those old women are the orchestra,” Alice told them, pointing to a dozen or more figures huddled up on mats beyond the illumination of the bonfires. Even as she spoke the count had raised his hand as a signal to begin. Immediately the dim figures began to beat time with sticks upon their mats; while from the darkness a volume of savage melody burst forth. Then came slowly forward from the shadow into the illumination a score of men in single file, their arms on each other’s shoulders. To Phil it resembled the prison-gang step, but every move of their half-naked bodies was graceful. The light reflected from their shiny skins gave a startling effect. On each head was a green wreath. Gummed to cheeks, ears and nose were hanging pendants of the leaves of the crimson hibiscus flower. About their necks were worn circles of boar tusks mixed with scarlet peppers and bright berries.