[Typee by Herman Melville]@TWC D-Link book
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
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The boy scampered away with it, half delirious with ecstasy, and in twenty minutes afterwards I might have been seen surrounded by a noisy crowd--venerable old graybeards--responsible fathers of families--valiant warriors--matrons--young men--girls and children, all holding in their hands bits of bamboo, and each clamouring to be served first.
For three or four hours I was engaged in manufacturing pop-guns, but at last made over my good-will and interest in the concern to a lad of remarkably quick parts, whom I soon initiated into the art and mystery.
Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop, now resounded all over the valley.

Duels, skirmishes, pitched battles, and general engagements were to be seen on every side.

Here, as you walked along a path which led through a thicket, you fell into a cunningly laid ambush, and became a target for a body of musketeers whose tattooed limbs you could just see peeping into view through the foliage.

There you were assailed by the intrepid garrison of a house, who levelled their bamboo rifles at you from between the upright canes which composed its sides.

Farther on you were fired upon by a detachment of sharpshooters, mounted upon the top of a pi-pi.
Pop, Pop, Pop, Pop! green guavas, seeds, and berries were flying about in every direction, and during this dangerous state of affairs I was half afraid that, like the man and his brazen bull, I should fall a victim to my own ingenuity.


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