the
dripping little body and carried her up the garden path to the house
when I returned for breakfast. Pae received her with no concern, and
gave her a piece of cocoanut to suck. I saw the infant, clutching it
in one hand, toddling and stumbling river-ward again when after
breakfast I set out for a walk up Oomoa Valley.

Oomoa was far wilder than Atuona, more lonely, with hundreds of
vacant _paepaes_. Miles of land, once cultivated, had been taken
again by the jungle, as estates lapsed to nature after thousands of
years of man. Still, even far from the houses, delicate trees had
preserved themselves in some mysterious way, and oranges and limes
offered themselves to me in the thickets.

The river that emptied into the bay below Grelet's plantation flowed
down the valley from the heights, and beside it ran the trail, a
road for half a mile, then a track growing fainter with every mile,
hardly distinguishable from the tangle of trees and bushes on either
side. Here and there I saw a native house built of bamboo and matting,
very simple shelters with an open space for a doorway, but wholesome,
clean, and, to me, beautiful. I met no one, and most of the huts
were on the other side of the river, but from one nearer the track a
voice called to me, "_Kaoha! Manihii, a tata mai!_ Greeting, stranger,
come to us!"

The hut, which, by measurement, was ten feet by six, held six women
and girls, all lying at ease on piles of mats. It was a rendezvous
of gossips, a place for siestas and scandal. One had seen and hailed
me, and when I came to their _paepae_, they all filed out and
surrounded me, gently and politely, but curiously. Obviously they
had seen few whites.

The six were from thirteen to twenty years of age, four of them
strikingly beautiful, with the grace of wild animals and the bright,
soft eyes of children. Smiling and eager to be better acquainted
with me, they examined my puttees of spiral wool, my pongee shirt,
and khaki riding-breeches, the heavy seams of which they felt and
discussed. They discovered a tiny rip, and the eldest insisted that
I take off the breeches while she sewed it.

As this was my one chance to prevent the rip growing into a gulf
that would ultimately swallow the trousers, I permitted the stitch
in time, and having nothing in my pockets for reward, I danced a jig.
I cannot dance a step or sing a note correctly, but in this
archipelago I had won inter-island fame as a dancer of strange and