Old Harry Hutten, who blew his arm off with a charge of dynamite whilst fishing, was a man with a history as long as your arm, but he fell foul of the natives, and was, I believe, found dead one morning. Johnnie Pratt, one of the most decent men out there, married a native bush girl, and by doing so offended the shore natives, who eventually killed him and carried her off, to show how hurt they were at his not choosing a wife from the “Women belong Sea.” [Illustration 24: JOHNNIE PRATT WITH HIS IVORY NUTS, AT SIMBO, SOLOMON ISLANDS At the time when I did the original sketch from which this picture was made, Johnnie Pratt, a French trader, was in health and prosperity. He had his small house with the copra and boat sheds down on a narrow beach under the shelter of a tropical forest that spread upwards over the hills round a lovely little bay. He was a jolly chap, and when last I saw him was singing among his “boys” at work. He had married a native girl, daughter of a local chief, and at the birth of their child this chief gave him the fore-shore round the bay. He seemed to have had a happy time as times go in these parts, though his life had been attempted more than once on a neighbouring island. I do not remember now when it happened, but not far from his place he was murdered, and so came to the end many traders do in the wild Solomons. The drawing shows Pratt taking tally of the weight of the sacks of ivory nuts which the “boys” are bringing from the sheds to be put into boats. The native in the foreground is wearing a sunshade.] But Dick Eade is one of the straightest traders there, and will tell you, if ever you meet him, more tales of the ups and downs of a trader’s life in half an hour than you will hear elsewhere in a lifetime. {75} A few years back he decided to take a trip home to the Old Country, as he had made enough money for a good holiday, so he left his partner in charge of his store and sailed away. But directly he reached Melbourne a letter was sent to him to say that his partner had been killed, and that his boat was high and dry on the rocks with a perforated bottom. So instead of going home he had to return and make a fresh start. There is plenty of excitement in the South Seas, and a glorious uncertainty in the life, and none know it better than the traders and miners. The most surprising thing is that often no cause can be found to account for the natives rising. The Mambare river massacre was one of these strange risings, and when the survivors came to Port Moresby the story they told of that mining venture was grim indeed. It appears that a party of miners, under the leadership of a man named George Clark, went up the river on a prospecting tour. They succeeded in making friends with all the natives they came across near the mouth of the river, and purchased several canoes from them.