"But doesn't it hurt dreadfully?" asked Lucy.
"Hurt! to be sure it does, but that will show that I am brave. When Father comes home from the war, he paints himself white."
"White!"
"With lime made by burning coral, and he jumps and dances and shouts: I shall go to the war one of these days."
"Oh no, don't!" said Lucy, "it is horrid."
The boy laughed, but the little girl whispered, "Good white men say so. Some day Lavo will go and learn, and leave off fighting."
Lavo shook his head. "No, not yet; I will be brave chief and warrior first,—bring home many heads of enemies."
"I—I think it nice to be quiet," said Lucy; "and—and—won't you have some dinner?"
"Have you baked a pig?" asked Lavo.
"I think this is mutton," said Lucy, when the dish came up,—"it is sheep's flesh."