Cleary exhibited it to Carlos.
"There is our elderly friend," said he, indicating the drum-major. "He is leading the national war-dance of our people. There is the tom-tom," he added triumphantly, pointing at the bass-drum, which was fortunately presented in full relief.
Carlos was taken aback, and he made a guttural exclamation of surprise.
"Do you dress like that when you are at home?" he asked of Colonel James.
"I do," replied the colonel majestically.
"Then I bow down before you," said the chief, kneeling down and touching the ground with his forehead three times. "But," he added, as he rose to his feet, "you have not yet proved that we are brothers. Where are your tattoo-marks? Look at mine!"
"Sam, strip," whispered Cleary, and Sam tore off his coat and shirt, displaying the masterpieces of the artistic boatswain. A cry of admiration went up from the assembled savages. Carlos rushed at him, threw his arms about his neck, and rubbed his nose violently against his.
"For heaven's sake, save me, Cleary!" cried Sam. "My nose will be worse than Saunder's, and Marian is prejudiced against damaged noses."
Cleary thought it best not to interfere, and finally the chief grew tired of this exercise. He hardly paid any attention while Cleary showed the modest tattoo-marks on his arms, and Colonel James exhibited equally insignificant symbols on his, for he, too, had been tattooed in his youth. He was too much engrossed in Sam's red hair and his variegated cuticle.
"Here is the picture of the water-ordeal which you forgot to look at," said Cleary, as he collected the photographs. "This is my friend again with his head in the water and his legs stretched out in supplication to the god of the temple."