Saved by a Curious Custom 
THE men of Lifu were great warriors who seized every 
opportunity to satisfy their desire to conquer and to kill. 
Cannibals, too, were they of the most revolting kind. Not 
content to feast upon the bodies of their enemies, they in- 
dulged the hideous practice of devouring the corpses of their 
own dead. Life upon their fair island was a thing of but 
little value, and it held for them all the terrors to which 
demon-worshiping, cannibal savages are subjected. No cir- 
cumstance of their existence was without its dread signifi- 
cance. 
The storm that raged on the sea and spread destruction 
upon their island was attributed to the influence of demons 
who must be placated by human sacrifices. The rain being 
withheld from their land till their crops failed, was consid- 
ered to be due to the power of witchery, and their savage 
imaginations never failed to place the responsibility upon 
some innocent victim whom they cruelly put to death. Of 
one thing alone were the Lifuans certain—that wherever 
or however they were overtaken by death, they then would 
be eaten by their fellows, and “the man who had the largest 
number of wives and children was openly referred to as the 
one who had the greatest store of food in case of a failure 
of their crops.” 
It was these savage warriors that were drawn up in bat- 
tle line, one day long years ago, upon the beach of their island 
home. They formed an ugly, menacing crowd, armed with 
the heavy clubs and long spears with which they were accus- 
tomed to meet their enemies. Why were they there? To 
what purpose had they been gathered by the heavy roll of 
the rapidly beaten drums? Were the war canoes of their 
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