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 the others that life on Karolin was not going to be all beer and skittles for them, that as they had joined the tribe and taken wives they would have to work; to work in the paraka patches and in the fishing and to help man the schooner. “For,” said Aioma, “there are things to be done beyond the reef, away over there,” said he straightening himself for a moment and wiping his brow and pointing north, “where lies Marua, an island of tall trees, and evil men who may yet come in their canoes—no matter. It is not a question for you or for me, but for Taori.”

“What you set us to do we will do,” said Poni. “We are not beach crabs, but men, Aioma. What say you, Kanoa?”

Kanoa laughed and glanced at Le Moan and then away over the lagoon.

“I will work in the paraka patches and at the fishing,” said he, “but the work I would like best would be the work of measuring myself against those evil men you speak of, Aioma—that is the work for a man.”

As he spoke the reef trembled and the air shook to a long roll of thunder, an infinite, subdued, volume of sound heart-shaking because its source seemed not in the air above them, but in the earth beneath them and the sea that washed the reef.

The wind had died out at noon, the outer sea was calm and the lagoon, mirror-bright, was making three inch waves on the sand; the tide was at half flood.

Aioma looked about him, the others had risen to