fever, some in their houses, others lying exposed to the sun.  I asked them if they had no vatavata (spirits) knocking around in their district, and did they not much trouble them.  “Oh, trouble us much, very much.”  I told them I thought so, and the sooner they removed from that place the better—­that they were right in the centre of sickness and death.  They said, “And what is to become of the place of our forefathers, and the cocoanuts they planted?” “Better leave them, or in a short time there will be none left to remember their forefathers, or eat their cocoanuts.”  Madu was in the country, and we waited his return.  He tried hard to get me to stay over-night, but it was of no use.  He presented me with a pig and feathers, and we concluded friendship by my giving a return present.  An old woman was presented to me, a great sorceress; but, not liking the sisterhood, I did not see my way clear to give her a present.  Such as she keep the natives in constant fear, do what they like, and get what they like.  It is affirmed by all that the great Lolo sorcerer, Arua, keeps snakes in bamboos, and uses them for his nefarious purposes.  Late in the afternoon we left, accompanied by Madu and a number of youths carrying pig, cocoanuts, and sugar-cane.  When leaving, the chief said, “Go, Tamate; we are friends.”

On June 14th, I had a long conference with the old Paitana chief, Boutu, and his followers.  They looked very much excited and alarmed when I met them, but that wore away during our conversation.  Boutu, his party, and other Lolo natives assured me that the attack on Dr. James and Mr. Thorngren was unknown to all but those in the canoe.  The excuse was that the day before they were trading on Yule Island one young man had feathers for sale.  Dr. James and Waunaea told him to leave; they would not take his feathers because he objected to the pearl shell produced.  This, they say, was the beginning.  He tried very hard to sell his feathers, and, if possible, get a tomahawk.  Failing, he went home, quietly arranged a party, slept in the bush, and before daylight went off to the vessel.  On nearing the vessel, Dr. James called out—­“You must not come alongside:  you are coming to kill me.”  They said, “We are not going to kill you, but want to sell yams.”  The yams were taken on board, and whilst Dr. James was counting the beads to pay for them he was struck with a club, and afterwards speared, but not quite disabled, as he drew his revolver and shot the man who attacked him.  Mr. Thorngren was struck at from aft, fell overboard, and was never again seen.  They say, when the people in the village heard of it, they were very sorry, and that ever since they have been looked upon with anger, as they have been the cause of keeping the white man away with his tobacco, beads, and tomahawks.  I asked them, “What now?” “Let us make friends, and never again have the like.”  “But your young men could do the same again