The tender tips of the fallen palms were likewise eaten, while the thousands of coconuts were husked and split and sun-dried and smoke-cured into copra to be sold to the next passing trader.
Thus, the penalty exacted had proved a picnic and a feast--all of which appealed to the thrifty, calculating brain of Bashti.

And what was good for Ano Ano, in his judgment was surely good for Somo.

Since such were white men's ways who sailed under the British flag and killed pigs and cut down coconuts in cancellation of blood-debts and headtakings, Bashti saw no valid reason why he should not profit as Ano Ano had profited.

The price to be paid at some possible future time was absurdly disproportionate to the immediate wealth to be gained.

Besides, it had been over two years since the last British war vessel had appeared in the Solomons.
And thus, Bashti, with a fine fresh idea inside his head, bowed his chief's head in consent that his people could flock aboard and trade.
Very few of them knew what his idea was or that he even had an idea.
Trade grew still brisker as more canoes came alongside and black men and women thronged the deck.