beach. He was got up in light pyjamas, near white, his gun sparkled, he looked mighty conspicuous; and the land-crabs scuttled from all around him to their holes.
"Hullo, my friend!" says I, "you no talk all-e-same true. Ese he go, he come back."
"Ese no all-e-same; Ese Tiapolo," says my friend; and, with a "Good-by," slunk off among the trees.
I watched Case all around the beach, where the tide was low; and let him pass me on the homeward way to Falesá. He was in deep thought, and the birds seemed to know it, trotting quite near him on the sand, or wheeling and calling in his ears. When he passed me I could see by the working of his lips that he was talking to himself, and what pleased me mightily, he had still my trade-mark on his brow. I tell you the plain truth: I had a mind to give him a gunful in his ugly mug, but I thought better of it.
All this time, and all the time I was following home, I kept repeating that native word, which I remembered by "Polly, put the kettle on and make us all some tea," tea-a-pollo.
"Uma," says I, when I got back, "what does Tiapolo mean? "
"Devil," says she.
