“‘Ohe te pepe!  Ohe te pepe!  Ohe te pepe!’ said the drum called Peepee. ‘Titiutiuti!  Titiutiuti!’ said the drum called Umi. Aue! Then the warriors came!  They stood in the High Place at the head of the valley.  Mehitete, the chief, spoke to them.  He said that they should go to Atuona, and bring back bodies for feasting.  Many nights the drums beat, and the chief talked much, but there was no war.

“The High Priest went to the Pekia again, and when he came away he ran without stopping for two days and a night, till he fell without breath, as one dead, and foam was on his mouth.  The gods were angry.  Still there was no war.

“Then came Tomefitu from Vait-hua.  He was chief of that valley, having been adopted by a woman of Vait-hua, but his father and his mother were of Taaoa.  He had heard of the slaying of Beaten to Death, his kinsman, and he was hot in the bowels. Aue! The thunder of the heavens was as the voice of Tomefitu when angered.  The earth groaned where he walked.  He knew the Farani and their tricks.  He had guns from the whalers, and he was afraid of nothing save the Ghost Woman of the Night.  Again the warriors came to the High Place, and now there were many drums.”

Kahuiti sprang to his feet.  He struck the corner post of the hut with his fist.  His eyes burned.

  “’Kaputuhe!  Kaputuhe!  Kaputuhe! 
    Teputuhe!  Teputuhe!  Teputuhe! 
    Tuti!  Tuti!  Tutuituiti!”

“That was what the war drums said.  The sound of them rolled from the Pekia, and every man who could throw a spear or hold a war-club came to their call.”

Kahuiti’s soul was rapt in the story.  His voice had the deep tone of the violoncello, powerful, vibrant, and colorful.  He had lived in that strange past, and the things he recalled were precious memories.

The sound of the drums, as he echoed them in the curious tone-words of Marquesan, thrilled me through.  I heard the booming of the ten-foot war-drums, their profound and far-reaching call like the roaring of lions in the jungle.  I saw the warriors with their spears of cocoanut-wood and their deadly clubs of ironwood carved and shining with oil, their baskets of polished stones slung about their waists, and their slings of fiber, dancing in the sacred grove of the Pekia, its shadows lighted by the blaze of the flickering candlenuts and the scented sandalwood.

“’I am The Wind That Lays Low The Mighty Tree.  I am The Wave That Fills The Canoe and Delivers The People To The Sharks!’ said Tomefitu.  ’The flesh of my kinsman fills the bellies of the men of Atuona, and the gods say war!

“‘There is war!’ said Tomefitu.  ’We must bring offerings to the gods.  Five men will go with me to Otoputo and bring back the gifts.  I will bring back to you the bodies of six of the Atuona pigs.  Prepare!  When we have eaten, the chiefs of Atuona will come to Taaoa, and then you will fight!