Another _méké_ peculiar to this district represents a flock of flying-foxes in act of robbing a garden of ripe bananas. Perhaps a couple of hundred foxes will assemble, to say nothing of a company of little foxes. A tree bearing the coveted fruit is fastened to a strong pole in the centre of the ground—and it says much for the native sense of humour that, instead of hanging up a bunch of real bananas, they must needs devise an artificial bunch, with a square gin-bottle filled with oil hanging from the tip, to represent the great purple blossom. In the first figure of the dance scouts are sent out to see that the coast is clear, and they flutter round the imaginary garden with outstretched arms, imitating the cry of the flying-fox. Soon the whole flock approach, chattering noisily over the prospects of the feast, circling and fluttering round and round after the manner of all bats. Then one proceeds to climb the tree, and hangs himself up by the legs, head downwards, with outstretched arms, flapping his wings and crying just like a flying-fox. A second soon follows, and disputes his position. They squeal, and scratch, and bite one another, and a battle of the bats ensues, in which the first-comer is routed. After a while some one shoots the intruder, who falls helplessly from the tree. All this time the rest of the flock have been dancing and fluttering around, the peculiar movements of bats being admirably rendered, even to the rushing sound of wings, which is given by a jerk of the body, which causes all the _liqus_ to swing simultaneously; and these being made of dried leaves of the _pandanus_ or screw-pine, which are long and narrow as a grass, rustle on the slightest movement, and their combined noise produces a rushing sound, greatly resembling that of the black-winged army. As an illustration of a comic dance, I may mention a pantomime representing a pig-hunt. He is supposed to be concealed in the long grass, and the hunters, round whose necks hang large boars’ tusks, very suggestive of danger from such a hidden foe, advance cautiously in search of him. At last he is found, captured alive, and dragged in triumph to the village, amid the acclamations of the spectators.[24] But on this particular occasion the representations were chiefly of such real warfare as that in which the dancers had so often been engaged,—the stealthy advance of scouts—the surprise, skirmish, and victory—dancers gradually working themselves up to a pitch of wildest excitement, and breaking forth into ear-piercing yells, in which the spectators did their part. This, and the painting and blackening of the warriors, produced an effect so truly diabolic, that it was hard to realise its being only a game. The _méké_ had gone on for nearly seven hours, when darkness closing in, compelled the remaining towns to reserve their dances, and the presentation of their offerings, till the following morning.