The curious reason was that his pictures appealed. I think I have indicated that Swank was ultramodern in his tendencies. "Artless art," was his formula, often expressed by his slogan--_"A bas l'objectif! Vive le subjonctif."_ Whatever that means, he scored with the Filbertines who would gather in immense numbers wherever he set up his easel. This was due in part to his habit of standing with his back to the scene which he proposed to paint and, bending over until his head almost touched the ground, peering at the landscape between his outspread legs. "It intensifies the color," he explained. "Try it." Baahaabaa bestowed a title on our artist--"Maimaue Ahiiahi"--"Tattooer of Rainbows"--by which he was loudly acclaimed. Whinney and I used to sing, "He's always tattooing rainbows!" but artistic vanity was proof against such _bourgeoisie_. Baahaabaa was tireless in suggesting new subjects for him to paint. One day it would be a performance of the _Ataboi_, the languorously sensuous dance which we had first seen in the women's compound; again he would stage a scene of feasting, at which the men passed foaming shells of _hoopa_ from hand to hand. A difficulty was that of preventing the artist from quitting work and joining his models which Swank always justified by saying that the greatest art resulted from submerging oneself with one's subject. "Look at Gaugin!" he used to say. "But I don't like to look at Gaugin," I remonstrated. Whinney foolishly tried to compete with Swank by means of his camera--foolishly, I say, though the result was one of the finest spectacles I have ever witnessed. For days Whinney had been stalking Swank, photographing everything he painted. In a darkroom of closely woven _panjandrus_ leaves the films were developed and a proof rushed off to Baahaabaa long before the artist had finished his picture. This naturally irritated Swank and he finally challenged the scientist to mortal combat, an artistic duel, camera against brush, lens against eye. When the details were explained to Baahaabaa, he was in a frenzy of excitement. As judge, his decision was to be final, which should have warned Whinney, who, as the challenged party, had the right to select the subject. His choice was distinctly artful. "I think I've got him!" he confided. "We're to do the 'lagoon at dawn.' You know what that means? Everything's gray and I can beat him a mile on gray; secondly, there won't be a gang of people around, and, thirdly, Swank simply loathes getting up early. They're all alike, these artists; any effort before noon is torture!" "All right," said Swank, when I explained the conditions, "I won't go to bed at all." [Illustration: The Lagoon at Dawn (Whinney's Version)] [Illustration Note: THE LAGOON AT DAWN (Whinney's Version)