Stranahan was approaching the end of his recital, and was telling us how he had been compelled to wear the native costume and how his meals had been brought to him regularly twice each day, when he was interrupted by the entrance of several natives, who had been looking for us in the adjoining room and seemed a little annoyed at our disappearance. Unceremoniously they led us back to the other apartment, where the half dozen robes were lying in wait for us; and, perceiving from their gestures that we would do well to don the native garb, I promptly arrayed myself in a gown of pale lavender, while Rawson exchanged his sailor’s suit for a costume of daintiest yellow. Both of us had difficulty in adjusting the garments, which were fastened at the shoulder by a fish-bone device resembling a safety-pin; and we had our hesitation about the sandals, which were slipped on at a stroke and yet were held firmly in place by inconspicuous cords. But though we puzzled over our new apparel for many minutes, Rawson found in the end that he had his on inside out, while the front of mine was where the rear should have been. Of course, we did not discover these mistakes for ourselves. Our attendants, on returning to see us fully attired, indicated the errors with smiles and suppressed laughter; and with their aid, we managed to array ourselves almost like self-respecting natives. * * * * * Fortunately, we had little time just then to notice how ridiculous we looked in our colored gowns. As soon as the perplexing business of dressing was settled, one of the men motioned me to a sofa in a corner of the room, where he took a seat beside me as though for some important purpose; and a second similarly led Rawson to an opposite corner, while the other natives unceremoniously took their leave. My particular attendant, who was a tall man, neither young nor old, with classic features and keen but kindly gray eyes peering from beneath a wide expanse of forehead, now began to go through a series of apparently meaningless gestures, accompanied by no less meaningless words. First he would tap his head while emitting a peculiar sound; then he would tap his breast while emitting another peculiar sound; then he would touch his arm, his knee, his foot, always slowly and carefully pronouncing one or two unintelligible syllables. In the beginning, I was inclined to wonder whether he was not mad, but this view was not furthered by the discovery that Rawson’s attendant was conducting a similar performance. It was doubtless only my own stupidity that prevented me from grasping the truth immediately. At length my companion drew a small pad of paper from his pocket and began to write upon it with an instrument resembling a fountain pen, and I understood clearly enough then that he was trying to teach me his language; so I gave him my undivided attention, noting carefully each