"And be eaten at the conclusion of the tournament!"
"I think not," he said, and turned again to his work. He was painting a large poster, with native dyes, representing a grand skating-race. Over the top he had printed in large letters:
The Tongaloo Tournament!
"There!" said he, as he finished. "Now you must do all you can to make the thing a success!"
So I did. I went about all day among the skaters, saying: "Bonga Tongaloo tournament! Vanga goo Tongaloo tournament!" and other such phrases as Marmaduke taught me. These words meant, he said, that it was all the rage, and the correct thing.
At last the great day arrived. The chief had furnished the minor prizes; but the great event of all was to be the final, straight-away race open to all comers, and for this the first prize was to be Marmaduke's gold watch, and the second my stylographic pen.
The course was laid out along the best native road, which Marmaduke had taught them to macadamize for the occasion. The distance was to be a mile out and then back again to the starting-point.
Every able-bodied islander was entered, and Marmaduke and I put on our skates with the rest.
Amid tremendous excitement the signal was given, and away they went—clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter!—down the road.
Gradually, Marmaduke and I, though apparently making unusual exertions, fell behind, and as soon as the crowd had gained a good lead on us, we sat down, cut off our skates, and struck out across country for the beach.
One or two of the nearest skaters stared after us, and then
