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I heard my grandfather Kirio say that even as late as in the days of his father, Tiras, the men who went to war returned to their tribes carrying the heads of their enemies stuck to the points of their lances, or trailed by the hair from the breast-plates of their horses. They were then nailed to the doors of the houses for trophies, just as you see yonder on the wall the heads of wild animals."
As Kirio Patuhamane explained, they had waited to observe the disposition of their new ruler, the last having been severe, dispensing no rum save for his own selfish gain, and having a wife who despised them.
Yes, I must tell you who I am, seeing you are to sit down at my hearth;" and unaffected by the stranger's gesture of anger, which seemed to say he cared not to know who Joel was, the latter proceeded: "My name is Joel ... I am the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio ... Kirio was the son of Tiras ... Tiras was the son of Gomer ... Gomer was the son of Vorr ... Vorr was the son of Glenan ... Glenan, son of Erer, who was the son of Roderik, chosen brenn of the confederated Gallic army, who two hundred and seventy-six years ago levied tribute upon Rome in order to punish the Romans for their treachery.
Kirio Patuhamane, a marvelous specimen of scrolled ink-marks from head to foot, who sported Burnside whiskers, an English cricket cap, and a scarlet loin-cloth, accompanied us down the road. A hundred natives were squatting in the garden of the palace, and rum and wine were being handed out when we arrived.
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