But you think of police. You
have a wish, say. Well my dear sir, but would you kill a man--three--ten
men--to have that wish? No, you are too tired, and you must have the
police. But here there are no police. _I_ am the police. Why do you not
kill _me_? Ha-ha-ha! Then you could take my property. Then you would
"make big," as you say. My dear sir, that is a "hunch!" That is "sure
fire!" Ha-ha-ha!'--Then I will kick him out in his coolie cotton pants."
After coffee the trader said: "One gallon of the Hollands which you sent
me ashore has disappeared. The kitchen boys are 'careless.' Also I wink
one eye when a schooner arrives. Of course they will dance tonight,
however. You would care to go up, my dear sir?"
Of course we went. There's no other amusement in an islet like Taai but
the interminable native dance. The Dutchman led the way up a narrow,
bushy ravine, guiding me by sound rather than by sight.
"Up this same very path," I heard him, "has gone one uncle of mine. They
pulled him to the advance with one rope around his arms. Then they cut
him up and ate him. But that was many years ago, my dear sir. Now I am
the law. Maybe there shall come, now and then, a Dutch gunboat to have a
look-in. I raise up that flag. The captain shall dine with me. All is
good.
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