In great perplexity, yet believing that my presence might prevent bloodshed, I allowed myself to be placed at their head. The old Chief followed next, then a number of fiery young men; then all the rest, single file, along the narrow path. At a sudden turn, as we neared their village, Nourai, who had attacked me the Sabbath day before, and his brother were seen lurking with their muskets; but our young men made a rush in front, and they disappeared into the bush. We took possession of the Village Public Ground; and the Chief, the Sacred Man, and others soon assembled. A most characteristic Native Palaver followed. Speeches, endless speeches, were fired by them at each other. My friends declared, in every conceivable form of language and of graphic illustration, that they were resolved at any cost to defend me and the worship of Jehovah, and that they would as one man punish every attempt to injure me or take my life. The orator, Taia, exclaimed,— “You think that Missi is here alone, and that you can do with him as you please! No! We are now all Missi’s men. We will fight for him and his rather than see him injured. Every one that attacks him attacks us. That is finished to-day!” [Illustration: “I’LL KNOCK THE TEVIL OUT OF HIM.”] In the general scolding, the Sacred Man had special attention, for pretending to cause hurricanes. One pointed out that he had himself a stiff knee, and argued,— “If he can make a hurricane, why can’t he restore the joint of his own knee? It is surely easier to do the one than the other!” The Natives laughed heartily, and taunted him. Meantime he sat looking down to the earth in sullen silence; and a ludicrous episode ensued. His wife, a big, strong woman, scolded him roundly for the trouble he had brought them all into; and then, getting indignant as well as angry, she seized a huge cocoa-nut leaf out of the bush, and with the butt end thereof began thrashing his shoulders vigorously, as she poured out the vials of her wrath in torrents of words, always winding up with the cry,— “I’ll knock the Tevil out of him! He’ll not try hurricanes again!” The woman was a Malay, as many of the Aniwans were. Had a Papuan woman on Tanna or Erromanga dared such a thing, she would have been killed on the spot. But even on Aniwa, the unwonted spectacle of a wife beating her husband created uproarious amusement. At length I remonstrated, saying,— “You had better stop now! You don’t want to kill him, do you? You seem to have knocked ‘the Tevil’ pretty well out of him now! You see how he receives it all in silence, and repents of all his bad talk and bad conduct.”