M

AHI was troubled. He sat on a log with his hands spread out upon his knees. His huge shoulders drooped dejectedly and his forehead was indented by as deep a frown as that smooth surface was capable of accomplishing. His broad face, when not actually smiling, usually radiated good nature, and the frown made him look like a petulant child. The grass house behind him was in excellent condition. The velvety luxuriance of the taro patch near by betokened a plentiful supply of that necessity, and two fat pigs strayed contentedly with the chickens which scratched among the sorghum stalks. Down on the beach, his new canoe was drawn safely above the tide mark, while the net, spread on the rocks to dry, had that very day held a big catch of mullet. What cause had he for worry?

There was a good reason, he thought. That morning his best friend Loni had come to invite him and Marie to a feast on the following day. Alas, the plantation manager had sent word, last night, of the arrival of some long-expected guests. To-morrow was the day set for them to climb the mountain, and Mahi had promised to act as guide.

Mahi had asked Loni if the feast might not be postponed, but the pig had already been killed and the pit prepared

for its roasting. Loni and Marie argued that not even a white man could wish, in sober earnest, to put off a feast, and that the manager would doubtless defer the mountain trip. But Mahi did not feel SO confident. Besides, noblesse oblige, and Mahi was justly proud of his reputation as the best guide on the island, and still more proud of being known as always honest and trustworthy.

He had urged Marie to go to the feast without him. This she had refusel to do.

He smiled a little at this thought, but his gloom quickly returned as he remembered the manner of her refusal. She was devoted to him, yet her way of showing that devotion was, at times, peculiar.

At that very moment she was seated on a mat spread on the ground behind ne house, and was vigorously ironing a pink cotton shirt. He sighed as he reflected that she intended it for his wearing at the approaching feast. Usually she sang at her work, but there was no music to be heard this afternoon.

Loni had often told him that he ought to punish her fits of anger, but she was so small and pretty-and he dolefully sighed again.

A clear, high voice from within the house called:

The manager wants a
down to the big
You have left me
Gone off with

"Mahi, Mahi! dozen mullets taken house this afternoon. to take them, I suppose. the horse, too. Pig!"

She flounced into the doorway. She was smaller and less stout than most of the native women. There was a snap in the black eyes and a vivacity in her manner which she had inherited from her half-caste French father.

When will you And you promised Look at that horse. saddle him?"

"Ah'h!" she cried as she saw her husband. "Not gone yet? get those fish down? to take some to Loni. Do you expect me to Mahi stared at his hands. The old horse lifted his head a moment, then went on cropping grass. Three dogs ran around the corner of the house, barking excitedly, but turned tail as they saw their mistress and slank off.

"Mahi!" she cried again, her voice running up the scale, "are you asleep?" Suddenly the "steamboat iron" leaped from her hand straight for his head, scattering bits of red-hot charcoal in its flight. He dodged it with wonderful quickness for so large a man, then rose slowly, as though gently roused from a nap, yawned, and stretched himself. Stooping, he picked up the smoking iron from the heap of taro leaves in which it had buried itself, looked at her with a lazy smile, and said, sweetly: "What do you want, Marie?"

"Want!" She choked with rage, stamped her foot, and ran into the house.

Mahi looked after her, shook his head, set down the iron by the door, and then untied the horse. Leading him to a small thatch-covered shed, he saddled the animal, and mounting rode to the back of the house. Soon he came back with a large basket on his arm. The dogs followed gaily at his heels. The horse threw his head up and down in the fashion dear to every native, and galloped down the road.

As the clatter of hoofs and the joyful yelping of the dogs grew fainter, Marie came again to the door. She wiped 'er angry eyes on her sleeve, picked up ne iron, shook a small fist after the retreating cavalcade, and muttered: "Pigs!"

The sea was ablaze with the glory of the setting sun when Mahi came home. The horse now held his head quietly, as one who realized the peace of the evening, and the dogs trotted slowly along. All was quiet about the grass-house. The big yellow Cochin-China rooster had gathered his harem and stood gravely at the foot of a straggling mango tree, in which his wives, with much low conver

sation and occasional nervous squawks, were settling themselves for the night.

Loni had come back with another young man, and the two were sitting on the ground, playing cards. Several yards in front of the players stood a blackened kerosene tin. The top had been taken off and an opening cut in one side. Through this glowed a charcoal fire, and on top of the tin some mullet were cooking in a large frying pan. Near by stood a big calabash of poi and a wooden bowl of coarse salt.

Marie was apparently putting her whole soul into her cooking, and did not look up as Mahi rode into the yard. Her small pretty face showed no trace of the afternoon's storm. Her turkey red holoku was reshly clean, and the little fire sent dancing lights over her dark face and gay gown.

"Aloha oe!" shouted Mahi, as he got down from his horse. Loni and his companion grunted good naturedly in reply, but Marie seemed not to hear. The dogs at a safe distance sniffed the delightful odors from the frying-pan, and one by one settled themselves near the card-players. Mahi unsaddled his horse, tied him to the fence and threw down before him a great bundle of sorghum stalks. Then, coming tc where Marie sat on the ground beside her fish, he dropped a little bag of cut tobacco into her lap. She smiled a little at this offering, and drawing a package of cigarette papers from her pocket, rolled one, lighted it at the fire, and began to smoke. Then she passed the tobacco to Loni, and still smoking turned over the fish.

"Is supper ready?" asked Mahi. She waved her hand toward the poi, and took the pan from the fire and put it on the ground.

Near the house ran a swift little stream. In a dip of its bed a large basin had been hollowed by the winter floods. Here Mahi knelt down on the grassy bank and plunged his head completely under the cool water. Rising, and shaking himself like a great dog, he drew a green and yellow handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face. Then going up to the waiting group he spread out both hands with a gesture of invitation

and said solemnly: "Let us eat."

They all sat down where they could easily reach the calabash of poi, and each, dipping in two fingers, with a twist brought out a smooth lump of the sticky paste and deftly conveyed it to his mouth. No one spoke until the poi had nearly disappeared, and but one or two of the fish remained. Then Loni, rubbing his fingers on the grass beside him, turned to Mahi.

"You have surely changed your mind," he said, insinuatingly.

Mahi glanced at Marie and shook his head.

"Ah, Mahi," said the other man, quickly, "why not come? The people from the far side of the island will all te there. It will be the feast of the year. We can't do without you. Nobody else knows just when the pig and fish are cooked enough. My wife has the cocoanut pudding all ready. We have plenty of sea-weed and shrimps, and the kukui nuts are cooked and pounded. Besides, no one can sing so well as you and Marie."

"Marie can go," answered Mahi. "But we want you both," urged Loai. Mahi got up and went into the house. For awhile the three sat looking out upon the sea, now almost hidden by the night. Then Loni and his friends rose and walked off into the darkness.

Marie rolled and smoked another cigarette, hummed part of a tune, then, throwing the remaining fish to the dogs, she picked up the empty calabash and the frying-pan and carried them over to the stream.

She put them down upon the bank and stood quietly for a moment, but ner anger was rising again. Thoughts of the morrow's feast, of the friends coming from a distance, of the music and dancing, and of the new yellow holoku made for this occasion, crowded fast upon her. She suauenly kicked the frying-pan into the water. The calabash followed, and, tipping, sank gurgling to the bottom. "Oh, Marie," called Mahi, "where is my blanket?"

"Under the bed," she answered, sullenly, standing still beside the stream.

In a moment he called again, "Where

are my spurs?"

This time she went into the house. Mahi had rolled the blanket inside his yellow oil-skin rain coat, and tied them into a compact bundle ready to be slung behind his saddle the next morning. A heavy flannel shirt lay on top of the roll and his leather leggings were beside them. He was filling a cartridge belt, and said persuasively, as she came into the room, "I'll shoot some wild turkeys on the mountains for you."

Paying no autention to him, she went to a box, took out some heavy spurs, and threw them, clanking, beside the leggings. Every movement of her lithe body showed her suppressed wrath.

Mahi began again, as he took his rifle from the corner and examined its lock, "I'll fill the canteen with ohelos on the

way down. They are big and sweet

now."

Still no answer. One of the dogs poked his nose into the door, but hastily backed away as Marie started toward them.

"Now, Marie, see here," said Mahi, laying down the rifle and putting his hands into his pocket. "You know I must go up the mountain to-morrow. Be a good girl. Go to the feast, and soon we will have a feast of our own. That's it!" he exclaimed, joyfully. "Tell all the people to stay, and when I come back we'll have a feast of our own."

"We won't!" she burst forth, her rage at last breaking loose. "You know I won't go without you. You are a beast to go off and leave me."

Her voice grew louder and more shrill, and looking around for some convenient missile, she saw the pink shirt and the yellow holoku, where she had hung them in anticipation of the morrow.

Seizing first one and then the other, she frantically tore them into rags, flung them to the floor and stamped upon the gaudy heap while bursting into a tornado of sobs and shrieks.

Mahi gazed at her with a helpless, dazed expression, but as the last fragment fluttered to the floor, he sprang forward, caught a pillow from the bed with one hand, with the other grasped the little fury, and gently laid her, face downward, upon the floor. In an instant the

pillow was upon her back, and, while throwing most of his weight forward upon his feet, he carefully sat down. Her small brown toes thumped the floor. Her vicious little hands vainly tried to grasp

some part of his clothing. She choked with utter rage, but he sat serenely, and smiled at the dogs, which looked in distrustfully, and then came boldly forward, wagging their tails.

HE census bureau has just com. pleted its series of bulletins on "School, Militia and Voting

平

Ages," and these include some

highly interesting figures on illiteracy. They certainly deserve a wider circulation than they will ever have, stored away in the pages of bulletins which by title do not refer to the subject of illiteracy at all. This article is written with the hope that these statistics, rearranged in more convenient shape for easy reference, may be instructive to many who never see a census bulletin.

The percentage of illiteracy of males of voting age in all the States and territories, is as follows:

Eastern States:

Western States: