It was very interesting living among a people in the totemistic stage of culture, but this custom is now gradually dying out, and the young men do not know much about it. An old man, named Gizu, whose services I secured as referee, was a great authority on various old customs, beliefs, and legends, and we found his knowledge invaluable when Waria, or our other informants, were at fault, but his knowledge of English was too imperfect for us to rely on his services alone.

There appear to have been five chief clans in Mabuiag: kodal (crocodile), tabu (snake), sam (cassowary), dungal (dugong), and kaigas (shovel-nose skate), to which subsidiary or small totems were added. The members of the first three clans were called koi augŭd kadsi, or children of the great augŭd, or totem; and those of the two latter were the mŭgi augŭd kadzi, or children of the small augŭd. These two clans formerly had their headquarters on the windward or south-east side of Mabuiag, whereas the three others were mainly located on the opposite side of the island.

I was informed that the hammer-headed shark (kursi), the shark (baidam), the sting-ray (tapimul), and the turtle (waru or surlal) totems were associated with the skate-dugong group, the phrase used was, “They all belong water; they all friends.” On the other hand, the dog (umai) was a subsidiary totem to the snake-cassowary-crocodile group; with the exception of the amphibious crocodile, these are all land animals.

There undoubtedly was supposed to be an intimate connection between the totem and its clansmen. For example, the crocodile-men were bloodthirsty, lusty, and always ready to fight any number of the water group; they had “no pity for people.” If a crocodile-man killed a crocodile, the other members of the clan would kill him; a member of another clan might kill a crocodile with impunity, but the kodal-men would mourn for it.

The snake-men were always ready for a row, and were handy with stone clubs. They used to put out their tongues and wag them as snakes do, and they had two small holes in the tip of their noses, which were evidently made to represent the nostrils of the snake.

The shark-men, like those previously mentioned, were “spoiling” for a fight. Sometimes the dog-men were fierce, at other times friendly, and “glad to see other people.” If a dog-man killed a dog, his fellow-clansmen would “fight” him, but they would not do anything if an outsider killed one. A member of this clan was supposed to have great sympathy with dogs, and to understand them better than did other men.

No cassowary-man would kill a cassowary; if one was seen doing so, his clansmen would “fight” him, as they felt sorry. “Sam, he all same as relation; he belong same family.” The members of the cassowary clan prided themselves on being specially good runners. If there was to be a fight a sam-man would say to himself, “My leg is long and thin; I can run and not feel tired; my legs will go quickly, and the grass will not entangle them.” It is worth noting that the cassowary does not occur in the islands of Torres Straits; if it ever did, it must have been exterminated very shortly after the islands were inhabited. Possibly Mabuiag men occasionally visited the mainland of New Guinea; but the adoption of the cassowary as a totem points to a time when the ancestors of the Mabuiag people actually inhabited New Guinea. The same argument applies, though with less force, to the crocodile. It is true crocodiles occur sparsely on some of the islands, and that reptile might thus be, so to speak, an indigenous totem, but they are very common and dangerous in the swamps of the New Guinea coast.

On certain occasions each of the dugong-men was painted with a red line from the tip of his nose up his forehead and down his spine to the small of the back. I obtained in this island a wooden model of a dugong that was used as a charm, and which was painted with a red line in a corresponding manner. The men’s foreheads were decked with upright leaves to represent the spouting of the dugong when it comes to the surface of the water to breathe, and leaves were also inserted in the arm-bands like water splashing off the dugong when it comes into very shallow water. This decoration was made when the dugong-man performed a magical rite in the kwod (or taboo ground) that was situated in their particular region of the island. A number of different plants were put on the ground, and a dugong was placed on the top. Several men took the dugong by the tail and hoisted up the tail in such a way as to make the dugong face the rest of the island—for the kwod was near the seashore, and faced the great reefs on which the dugong abound. There can be little doubt that this was a magical rite performed by the dugong-men to make the dugong come towards the island of Mabuiag. The dugong used in this ceremony was given to the turtle-men.

When only one turtle was obtained on a turtle expedition it was taken to the kwod of the turtle-men, who performed a pantomimic ceremony which symbolised the increase of turtle.

The origin and significance of totemism is still very obscure, and it is possible that quite different social, magical, and semi-religious institutions have been grouped together somewhat artificially as totemistic.

A very plausible hypothesis that Australian totemism is mainly an economic custom has recently been suggested independently by Dr. J. G. Frazer and Professor Baldwin Spencer. According to this view it is the business of certain groups of people, or clans, to preserve, or increase by means of magical rites, particular foodstuffs or objects of especial utility for the benefit of the whole tribe or community.

The behaviour of the dugong-men and turtle-men in Mabuiag certainly seems to support this very suggestive explanation, and I am inclined to think that it will receive additional corroboration when the Papuan evidence is forthcoming. It might be mentioned in this connection that though rain is not a totem, the office of aripuilaig, or “rain-maker,” was hereditary in Mabuiag, and consequently rain-making would be the function of a particular family.

In Mabuiag a woman kept her totem when she married, and I was informed that children inherited their father’s and mother’s totems, but the father’s was the chief one. I was also informed that though a man might not marry a Mabuiag or Badu woman belonging to the same augŭd as himself, this restriction did not apply to women from other islands.

In dealing with totemism in Kiwai I have already pointed out the value of belonging to a totemistic clan when visiting another village, and we found the same to apply among the western islands of Torres Straits. A man visiting another island would naturally be looked after and entertained by the residents who belonged to the same augŭd as he did. In warfare a man would never willingly or intentionally kill an enemy who he knew belonged to the same totem as himself. So that apart from its supposed economic use, totemism was undoubtedly an ameliorating influence in social intercourse, and tended to minimise inter-tribal antagonism.

During my former visit to Mabuiag, and on the present occasion, I failed to discover any very important ceremonies in connection with the initiation of the boys into their respective clans, though I have published an account of some initiation ceremonies that were held at Tut, or Warrior Island, during which the lads were secluded for a month in tents made of mats.

Seligmann discovered in Mabuiag a very interesting custom relative to the seclusion of girls on attaining womanhood. Remarkable as this practice was, very similar customs from various parts of the world have been recorded by Dr. J. G. Frazer in his erudite study in comparative religion, The Golden Bough. The following is from the preliminary account already published by my colleague:—

“When the signs of puberty appeared, a circle of bushes was made in a dark corner in the house of the girl’s parents. The girl was fully decked with leaves, and she sat in the centre of the bushes, which were piled so high round her that only her head was visible. This seclusion lasted for three months, the bushes being changed nightly, at which time the girl was allowed to slip out of the hut. She was usually attended by two old women, the girl’s maternal aunts, who were especially appointed to look after her. These women were called mowai by the girl; one of them cooked food for the girl at a special fire in the bush. The girl might not feed herself nor handle her food, it being put into her mouth by her attendant women. No man—not even the girl’s father—might come into the house. If he did see his daughter during this time he would certainly have had bad luck with his fishing, and probably smash his canoe the first time he went out. The girl might not eat turtle or turtle eggs; no vegetable food was forbidden. The sun was not allowed to shine on her. ‘He can’t see day time; he stop inside dark,’ said my informant.

“At the end of three months the girl was carried to a fresh-water creek by her mowai, she hanging on to their shoulders so that not even her feet touched the ground, the women of the village forming a ring round the girl and her mowai, thus escorting them to the creek. The girl’s ornaments were removed, and the mowai with their burden staggered into the creek, where the girl was immersed, all the women joining in splashing water over the three. On coming out of the water one of the mowai made a heap of grass for her charge to sit on, while the other ran to the reef and caught a small crab. She tore off its claws, and with these she ran back to the creek, where a fire had meanwhile been made, at which the claws were roasted. The girl was then fed on these by the mowai. She was then freshly decorated, and the whole party marched back to the village in one row, the girl being in the centre, with the mowai at her side, each of them holding one of the girl’s wrists. The husbands of the mowai (called by the girl waduam) received her, and led her into the house of one of them, where all ate food, the girl being then allowed to feed herself in the usual manner. The rest of the community had meanwhile prepared and eaten a feast, and a dance was held, in which the girl took a prominent part, her two waduam dancing, one on each side of her. When the dance was finished, the mowai led the girl into their house and stripped her of her ornaments. They then led her back to her parents’ house.”

One day Cowling invited us to go in his centre-board cutter to Pulu, as he knew we were anxious to visit that sacred islet, and we took with us Gizu, Tom, and Peter to act as guides. We had a spanking sail round the eastern and southern sides of Mabuiag, and soon reached Pulu, a small rocky island on the reef on the western side of Mabuiag. We landed at Mumugubut, a pretty little sandy bay surrounded by granitic rocks, which were fissured and undercut in an extraordinary manner. To the right, projecting high from massive boulders, was a gigantic Γ-shaped rock, which is called Kwoiam’s throwing-stick. This redoubtable hero implanted his weapon here after the slaughter of a number of Badu men who had humbugged him. Kwoiam had followed these men from Mabuiag, and landing elsewhere on the island, walked close to this tiny bay. Natives point out a rock lying on the ground against which Kwoiam pressed his foot when preparing to throw his spear against his sleeping foes, but concluding this spot was not suitable he made a détour inland, and took up a position whence he commanded a better view of the unconscious Badu men. He again prepared to hurl his spear, pressing hard with his right foot against the ground, which immediately became a shelf of rock to give him a better purchase for his foot. A little inland from the bay are a number of large slabs of rock which represent the bodies of the men killed and decapitated by Kwoiam.

To the left of Mumugubut are some smoothed rocks on which are perched immense boulders. A casual observer seeing similar rocks in Europe would not hesitate to describe these also as glaciated rocks and blocs perchés. As a matter of fact, they are due to the same kind of weathering that carves out the Devonshire tors, and which leaves the large granite boulders on the flanks of Dartmoor.

We passed round these rocks, and then struck inland. A short way from the beach is a cleft in the rocks, which in some places is very narrow, but in others widens out to leave two or three various-sized but small open spaces, which were utilised in former days as the retiring-rooms of the men engaged in certain ceremonies. One compartment was the cooking place, another the “green-room”; and in this latter was a great overhanging rock, under the shelter of which were kept the “properties.” No women were allowed to come near this spot.

We scrambled over rocks and through scrub, and soon came to an open bay, with a fair amount of level ground below it.

The southerly end of this area was the kwod, or tabooed camp of the men. To the left, and at high-water mark, is a huge boulder with an overhanging smooth surface facing the kwod. On this smooth surface are some nearly effaced paintings in red of various animals, also some handprints made by placing the outstretched palm and fingers on the rock, and splashing the rock with powdered charcoal mixed with water. The handprint thus appears white on a black background. The legend of the origin of this rock is as follows.

Once upon a time, when the Mabuiag people were camping there, the boys and girls, in spite of the prohibition of their parents, were fond of continually twirling round on the beach with their arms extended. They played in this way every night till this great rock fell from the sky as a punishment, and killed every man, woman, and child on the island, with the exception of two sweethearts, who fled and crossed over to Mabuiag at Kakalug. They bit a piece of a kowai tree that grew there, and “that medicine stop that stone.” This pair of lovers became the progenitors of the present population. Parents still tell their children never to play this game (gugabidĕ tiai) at night, lest a similar catastrophe should recur. The rock is called menguzikula, or “the stone that fell.”

Near the centre of the kwod is a large oblong heap of dugong bones, koi siboi. At short distances from this were the fireplaces of the five chief clans. These were so arranged that the Sam (cassowary), Kodal (crocodile), and Tabu (snake) fireplaces were comparatively close together, whereas the Kaigas (shovel-nose skate) and Dungal (dugong) were much further apart. This corresponds to a grouping of the three first as the “children of the big augŭd,” the name of which was named kotibu.

The two last were the “children of the little augŭd,” which was called giribu. Kotibu and giribu were two crescentic ornaments, or insignia, made by Kwoiam of turtle-shell; the former was worn on the upper lip, and the latter on the chest.

It appears to me that we here have a most interesting stage in the transformation of totemism, since we have the two main groups of the old totem (augŭd) clans associated with relics of a national hero. There are other facts which point to the rise of a local hero cult, the hero himself (although he belonged to the Kaigas clan) being augŭd, as were also kotibu and giribu.

It is very rarely that artificial objects are adopted as totems, and I believe this is the only instance of an individual man being spoken of as a totem. Although the natives called him augŭd, they were evidently extending the use of that term to a point beyond which it could logically be applied; but having no name for the idea they were striving after, they were forced to employ an old term, though the meaning was strained.

At the back of the kwod are two heaps of Fusus shells—one slightly larger than the other—the koi mat and the mŭgi mat (koi means “large,” and mŭgi is “small”). A short distance to the side of these are two small heaps of shells called respectively koi augŭdau kupar and mŭgi augŭdau kupar, and beyond the latter is a double row of dugong ribs called mŭgi siboi.

These five shrines are close to the bushes and rocks that form the south-easterly border of the kwod.

The great annual ceremonies were held here at the rising of the star Kek (Achernar, α of Eridanus, of our constellations).

The annual death-dance first took place, at which men with leafy masks and bodies covered with the yellow sprouting leaves of the coco-palm danced with bow and arrow, and mimicked in their gait and attitudes persons recently deceased. The women, who sat a long way off, recognised the individuals who were personified, and with tears and lamentations called out, “That’s my husband!” “Oh, my son!” according to their relationship with the deceased.

Women, too, have spirits that live after death, but, as that sex is by universal consent tabooed from performing sacred ceremonies, they could not personate deceased women; so men performed that office clad in a woman’s petticoat, and carried brooms in their hand, their faces being hidden with the customary head-dress of leaves.

It was a remarkable fact that these people appear to have noticed that hilarity is a natural reaction at funerals, and this was provided for in the person of a sort of masked buffoon, the danilkau, who “played the fool” behind the back of some of the more serious performers.

The adoption of the lads into their respective clans took place immediately after the death-dances. So far as I could gather, there were not such important ceremonies on this occasion as in the case of the Malu cult of Murray Island. I believe that masks were not employed at this time.

The only initiation ceremony, if such it can be called, that I could hear of was the chastising or torturing of the lads, more particularly the bad ones, in the kwod. The good boys were let off very easily, but a naughty one might be speared in the hollow of the knee by a stick armed with the spine of a sting-ray, or scraped with the rough, spiny skin of a ray, or be beaten about the ears and elsewhere with the nests of green ants, who bite ferociously, or chastised with wasps’ nests. So far as we could learn, neither here nor in Murray Island was the bull-roarer employed at the initiation ceremonies. Here it was swung in connection with turtle ceremonies; it was also useful in making garden produce grow, but it was not used to make wind or rain.

The kernge, or lads to be initiated, were grouped on the further side of the koi siboi. They remained in the kwod for several days, during which time they are instructed by their uncles (mothers’ brothers only) in the moral code and customs of the community.

At the end of the kwod was a forked post; on this were hung, after the war-dance, the decapitated heads of the enemy that had been slain in battle. In front of this post are stones which mark the spot where the wedding-gifts were heaped of a certain legendary spirit named Tapĕbu who married a Mabuiag girl.

On some of the rocks beyond the ceremonial camp we found a few simple pictographs; we photographed and sketched some of these. One group consists of two mŭri dancing, and another beating a drum. A mŭri is a spirit that descends and ascends water-spouts. It has only two front teeth in each jaw. The water-spout is called in Mabuiag klak markai, or “the spear of the spirits.” It is with these that the spirits (markai) catch dugong and turtle.

Under some of the boulders were a few human bones in a very bad state of repair.

Later on we struggled towards the centre of the island, scrambling up and over boulders, and forcing our way through dense tangled bush. Finally we came to an immense block of stone, the eastern face of which overhung to a considerable extent, forming a small, low cave, which some fifteen or twenty years ago had been nearly filled up with earth by a South Sea teacher. In the old days, this cave was the storehouse of the skulls that were obtained in the forays. Most of the skulls were placed in heaps at the back of the cave, while some were kept in two long baskets. In this cave were also kept the two ceremonial stone clubs and the sacred emblems, the mysterious kotibu and giribu. The skulls in the baskets were painted red, and were said to have been provided with noses made of beeswax and eyes of mother-of-pearl, but this was probably done in only a few cases. Forty-nine of the skulls from this cave were obtained by the British Museum (Natural History Museum) from the Rev. S. Macfarlane, and the collection has been described by Mr. Oldfield Thomas in the Journal of the Anthropological Institute, vol. xiv. p. 328.

The mouth of the cave was built up on each side with large Fusus shells. Now the glory and mystery have departed, and earth and stones almost entirely fill up the space beneath the overhanging rock. We obtained one or two broken skulls and a number of fragments of skulls.

When any man was on his way to visit the augŭds kotibu and giribu, the latter left their respective baskets in which they were kept and came to the entrance of the cave, but when the visitor came close, the augŭds returned to their baskets and made a scraping noise; but the man never saw them moving, he only found them lying in their baskets.

Outside the cave are two oblong patches of Fusus shells, called respectively koi mat and mŭgi mat; the former belonged to the big augŭd, and the latter to the little one. Each mat was called the mari of the augŭd. A mari is a spirit, shadow, or reflection.

When the baskets showed signs of decay, new ones were made at the next kek season. The men belonging to each augŭd gathered a plant called boz, the stem of which forms a kind of rope, and placed it on the koi- and mŭgi-augŭdau kupar in the kwod, and later transferred each bundle of boz respectively to the koi mat and the mŭgi mat. A mat, it will be remembered, is a heap of Fusus shells. The symbolism of the operation is pretty obvious. The material of which the sacred baskets were to be made was dedicated or sanctified by first placing it on the “navel” of the augŭd and then on its “shadow.” I found afterwards that a heap of shells, augŭdau kupar, or “navel of the augŭd” occurred in the kwod of the islands of Tut, Yam, and Muralug; the Kwoiam cult also extended to the latter island.

A large plaited mat was placed opposite the koi mat and mŭgi mat; on these the men of each division sat, and not one of them could budge from his mat for any purpose until the basket was finished. This was accomplished at sundown, and “every one feel glad, time to spell and walk about.” The following day the baskets were taken to the cave, and the contents of the old baskets transferred to the new. There were other details that need not be mentioned here.

All the sacred relics of Kwoiam were burned at the instigation of Hakin, a Lifu teacher at the time when the Rev. S. Macfarlane was on Murray Island. The Mamoose gave his consent to their destruction, but only a South Sea man, Charley Mare, dared destroy these augŭds, he burnt them on the spot.

The natives say that when the Mission party started for home the water was quite smooth, there being no wind whatever. As their boat rounded Sipungar Point, on their return, a sudden gust of wind made the boat heel over and nearly capsize, and that same night Charley’s body swelled up, and he was sick for a fortnight.

Kwoiam is such a central feature in the legendary lore of Mabuiag that it is desirable that a brief outline of his story should be told, since the saga of Kwoiam is too long to be here narrated in full.

Kwoiam lived with his mother, who was blind, and he had an uncle for his henchman. One day, when his mother was plaiting a mat, Kwoiam abstracted with his toes a strip of leaf his mother was about to use, and missing it she asked who had taken it. Kwoiam confessed, and his mother cursed him; this made him angry, and he went outside the hut and called to his uncle to get the sprouting leaf of a coconut palm that he might deck himself for the war-path. When he was so accoutred he killed his mother, and then went on the rampage to avenge her death, or as it was told to me, “to pay for mother.”

He went to several islands and to the mainland of New Guinea, sometimes slaying the population of a whole village, at other times merely requesting food or a new canoe. Eventually Kwoiam returned with a canoe-load of human heads, and he ordered his uncle to clean them for him.

On one occasion certain Badu men fooled him, refusing to give him some fish for which he had civilly asked them. These men retired to the island of Pulu for a midday siesta; Kwoiam followed them there and killed them all except two, who made their escape, but one of them had his leg transfixed by a javelin hurled by Kwoiam. The two survivors died on reaching Badu immediately after they had narrated the fate of the others.

An expedition of Moa and Badu men was sent to retaliate; but Kwoiam killed all who were sent against him except four men. A second very large avenging expedition was sent, but when fighting against these Kwoiam’s throwing-stick broke, and he was helpless. He slowly retreated backwards up his hill, and when the enemy pressed too closely upon him, he rushed forward, unarmed as he was, and frightened back his foes; this happened several times.

As soon as Kwoiam reached the summit of the hill he crouched in a prone position and gave up the ghost. A Moa man rushed up to him and began to cut off his head with a bamboo knife, but he had only made a small incision when he was stopped by another Badu man, who said, “No cut him head; he great man. Let him lie where he stop; he master over all these islands.” So instead of insulting the dead warrior they did him honour, and piled over his body their bows, arrows, javelins, and stone clubs, saying that now Kwoiam was dead all the fighting was over. The cairn erected over his grave remains to this day, and on it are placed three ancient shell trumpets.

The informant closed his narrative of this saga with the following sentiment: The fame of Kwoiam caused the island of Mabuiag to be feared for many a long day, and although the island is rocky and comparatively unfertile, Kwoiam covered it with honour and glory. Thus showing how the deeds of a single man can glorify a place in itself of little worth.

We spent one very pleasant day in visiting the spots associated with this legendary hero. On the plain near the sea is a large oval boulder, the head of the luckless mother. As we ascended the hill called Kwoiamantra (I think this means “Kwoiam’s ridge”) we passed between a long double row of stones that represented the heads taken by Kwoiam on the famous voyage when he paid the blood-price for the death of his mother. A short distance up the hill were some rocks, from out of a cleft in which a perennial stream flows. It arose in this wise. One day Kwoiam was thirsty, and he drove his spear into the rock, and water gushed forth and has never ceased to flow. The water fills a rock basin, and from this it trickles into a lower pool, and thence the stream flows down the hill. Ten years before I was informed that only old and important men might drink from the upper pool, whereas the lower was free to all; the penalty of unworthily drinking from the upper pool was premature greyness. I asked if I might drink there, and they were good enough to think that my claims were sufficiently strong. Apparently I was presumptuous, as the penalty has been inflicted!

On a rock between the two pools is a slight concavity in which Kwoiam used to sit, and in front of it are several transverse grooves in the rock, caused, it is stated, by Kwoiam straightening his javelins there by rubbing them across the rock.

Near the top of the hill is a rough U-shaped wall of stones about two feet in height, which marks the site of Kwoiam’s house; his mother lived on the flat land near the sea. Behind Kwoiam’s house is a tor which commands an extensive view, not only of Mabuiag and of some of the islets around, but there is a fine panorama of the great islands of Moa and Badu some five miles distant. This was the favourite look-out of Kwoiam, and it was from here that he saw the fleets of canoes from Badu and Moa that were crossing over to attack him.

As I sat there I thought of the deeds of the berserker. Below to the left was the grassy plain studded with pandanus and other trees where he was born and where he had his gardens. The site of his mother’s hut is now occupied by a South Sea man, who has married a native woman, and aliens till Kwoiam’s garden lands.

Far away was the prosperous village by the sand beach, nestling under the shade of a grove of coconut palms, the new church witnessing to the change that has come over the island.

In the old days, scattered throughout the island, were the hamlets of an agricultural fisher-folk, who, though fierce and savage, regulated their conduct by a code of morals that, so far as it went, was unimprovable. The emotions of awe, veneration, and mystery were cultivated by bizarre and sacred ceremonies; and the custom and sanction of ages had imbued their rude life with a richness of sentiment and a significance that we can scarcely realise.

Now the people are all gathered into one place under the ægis of a new religion, and are held together by an alien form of government. There is no glory, no independence, nothing to be proud of—except a church built by contract. Fishing is mainly practised to gain money to purchase the white man’s goods and the white man’s food. The dull and respectable uniformity of modern civilisation has gripped these poor people; but, to their credit be it spoken, they are still proud of the apotheosised Kwoiam.

Behind low-lying land were wooded hills that sent a spur forming the northern limit of the bay, and beyond this again were several low rocky islands. The pale green water fringed the bay with white surf, and beyond the limit of the fringing reef the deeper water assumed a fine blue hue. It was a pretty sight. The sear colours of the parched plain relieved with patches of the various green of coconut palm, banana, scrub, or garden plots. The red rocks variegated with green foliage, and the greens and blues of the sea relieved by a frill of white where the waves encircled the island shores.

On turning round one saw the long sky-line of the islands of Moa and Badu toothed with high hills, all colour being lost in the grey distance of a moisture-laden atmosphere. Here and there, along the coast, could be seen clouds of smoke, as the natives burnt the dead undergrowth to make their gardens. To the right various islets relieved the monotony of the waste of waters.

On the other side of the crest, overlooking Pulu and other islands, was the grave of Kwoiam. The low cairn was nine feet in height, with the head due east; it was surmounted by three reputed shell trumpets of the hero. How I longed to excavate the site! But I could not get permission from the natives, and I unwillingly gave way rather than rough-ride over their sentiment.

One little incident was very amusing as illustrating the change that has of recent years come over the people. I wanted one of the natives who had accompanied us to put himself in the attitude of the dying Kwoiam, so that I might have a record of the position he assumed, photographed on the actual spot. It took an incredible amount of persuasion to induce the man to strip, although he was a friend of ours, who knew us well. Eventually we succeeded, but the prudery he exhibited was ludicrous, and he managed to do all that we required without bringing a blush to the most sensitive cheek. There were, of course, only ourselves, and no women were present.

The bushes on the side of Kwoiam’s hill have most of their leaves blotched with red, and not a few are entirely of a bright red colour. This is due to the blood that spurted from Kwoiam’s neck when it was cut at his death; to this day the shrubs witness to this outrage on the dead hero.