alf god and half man, threw his spear
through the mountain once upon a time.

We came then to the veriest pitch of the journey, like the roof of
the world, and it was necessary to crawl about another ledge that
permitted a perpendicular view of 2500 feet, so desperate in its
attraction that had I known the name of that saint who is the patron
of alpenstock buyers I would have offered him an _ave_. This was the
apex. Once safely past it, the trail went downward to a plateau.

I caught up with Orivie and the horse, and my muscles so rejoiced at
the change of motion in descent that almost involuntarily I took a
few steps of a jig and uttered the first verses of "I Only Had Fifty
Cents." Mosses and ferns by the billion covered every foot of the
small plateau. There were no trees. The trail was a foot deep in
water, like an irrigation ditch. One still might easily break one's
neck. And I reflected that Pere Olivier crosses many times a year
between Oomoa and Hanavave, in his black soutan and on his weary
horse, in all weathers, alone; it is a fact to treasure for
recalling when one hears all missionaries included in the accusation
of selfishness that springs so often to the lips of many men.

We reached the plane of cocoanuts, and I asked Orivie to fetch down
a couple, after essaying to perform that feat myself and failing
dismally besides scratching my nose and hands. Bare feet are a
requisite--bare and tough as leather. The Marquesans cut notches in
the trees after they reach maturity, to make the climbing easier, a
custom they have in many parts of Asia, but not in Tahiti. These
footholds are made every three feet on opposite sides. They are cut
shallowly, inclining downward and outward, in order not to wound the
wood of the tree or to form pockets in which water would collect and
rot it. With these aids they climb with ease, using a rope of
_purau_ bark tied about the wrists, and by these they pull
themselves from notch.

I have seen a child of six years reach the top of a sixty-foot tree
in a minute or so, and I have seen a man or woman stop on the way,
fifty feet from the earth, and light a cigarette. Slim, fat, chiefs
or commoners, all learn this knack in infancy. Men who puff along
the road because of their bulk will attain the branches of a palm
with the agility of monkeys.

Orivie had no notches to assist him, but tied his ankles together
with a piece of tough vine, leaving about ten inches of play, and
with