But meanwhile build us a house of Trotéa, the stubborn wood, Bind it with incombustible thongs, set a roof to the room, Too strong for the hands of a man to dissever or fire to consume; And there, when the pigs come trotting, there shall the feast be spread, There shall the eye of the morn enlighten the feasters dead. So be it done; for I have a heart that pities your state, And Nateva and Námunu-úra are fire and water for hate.” All was done as he said, and the gardens prospered; and now The fame of their plenty went out, and word of it came to Vaiau. For the men of Námunu-úra sailed, to the windward far, Lay in the offing by south where the towns of the Tevas are, And cast overboard of their plenty; and lo! at the Tevas feet The surf on all of the beaches tumbled treasures of meat. In the salt of the sea, a harvest tossed with the refluent foam; And the children gleaned it in playing, and ate and carried it home; And the elders stared and debated, and wondered and passed the jest, But whenever a guest came by eagerly questioned the guest; And little by little, from one to another, the word went round: “In all the borders of Paea the victual rots on the ground, And swine are plenty as rats. And now, when they fare to the sea, The men of the Námunu-úra glean from under the tree And load the canoe to the gunwale with all that is toothsome to eat; And all day long on the sea the jaws are crushing the meat, The steersman eats at the helm, the rowers munch at the oar, And at length, when their bellies are full, overboard with the store!” Now was the word made true, and soon as the bait was bare, All the pigs of Taiárapu raised their snouts in the air. Songs were recited, and kinship was counted, and tales were told How war had severed of late but peace had cemented of old The clans of the island. “To war,” said they, “now set we an end, And hie to the Námunu-úra even as a friend to a friend.”