232 downwards in the bush. It was a sort of sustained catcall beginning on a high note and descending through three of four before it expired. Ona and I both thought it was a bird. I turned around to Ona and asked, "pidgin?". He nodded, and we both as best we could attempted to imitate the sound. But very soon a smile broke out on Ona's face and he picked up a stone and hurled disdainfully in the direction of the sound. Although Ona cannot speak English it began to dawn on me that the funeral party was down in there somewhere and that the noise we heard was a wail of mourning. Ona shouted and hissed and threw two or three sticks down over the ridge. Sounds of laughter and several native voices came back to us. But the wailing recommenced and Ona and I moved on. It was evidently an example of the Kanaka point of view towards the dead, that is, a lack of any particular respect for the dead, and of any particular fear of the state they have come to. The wailing is an insincere affectation gone through mechanically for a short time before cov- ering up the body. Ona seemed to understand that crested pigeons were no longer topics for polite conversation. He failed to whistle the call of the crested pigeon as usual when we had come into its possible territory. It was just as well. I shall never shoot at a crested pigeon again. If I saw six of them on a log I would throw a stick at them, or whistle a tune, or ask them to come