The following story is reprinted from By Rock and Pool on an Austral Shore and Other Stories., 1901. The last strokes of the bell for evening service had scarce died away when I heard a footstep on the pebbly path, and old Pâkía, staff in hand and pipe dangling from his pendulous ear-lobe, walked quietly up the steps and sat down cross-legged on the verandah. All my own people had gone to church and the house was very quiet. "Good evening, Pâkía," I said in English, "how are you, old man?" "Who were they, Pâkía, and how came they to fight?" * * * * * "'Is thy husband dead?' I asked.