Samson proudly stripped off his thin calico
jacket and exposed a torso of terrifying power, but beautiful in its
play of muscles as that of a god.

"But since my name is Hercules, the man
Who owes me hatred hides it if he can,

"eh, Samson?" was his master's characteristic comment.

"Yaas, sar!" said Samson, as pleased as a flattered bulldog, and
understanding the compliment precisely in the same instinctive fashion.

Leaving Samson and Erebus to continue their savage play with their
machetes, we walked on through the palms, which here gave a particularly
jungle-like appearance to the scene, from the fact of their being bowed
out from their roots, and sweeping upward in great curves. One
involuntarily looked for a man-eating tiger at any moment, standing
striped and splendid in one of the openings.

Then suddenly to the right, there came a flash of level green,
suggesting lawns, and the outlines of a house, partly covered with
brilliant purple flowers--a marvellous splash of colour.

"_Bougainvillea! Bougainvillea spectabilis_--of course, you know it. Was
there ever such a purple? Not Solomon in all his glory, _et cetera._ And
here we are at the house of King Alcinoues--a humble version of it
indeed."

It was evidently quite impossible for my friend to speak otherwise than
in images, picturesque scraps from the coloured rag-bag of a mind stored
with memories of the classics, all manner of romantic literature, and
tags of Greek and Latin which he mouthed with the relish of an epicure.

It was a large rambling stucco house, somewhat decayed looking, and
evidently built on the ruins of an older building. We came upon it at a
broad Italian-looking loggia, supported by stone pillars bowered in with
vines--very cool and pleasant--with mossy slabs for its floor, here and
there tropical ferns set out in tubs, some wicker chairs standing about,
and a table at one side on which two little barelegged negro girls were
busy setting out yellow fruit, and other appurtenances of luncheon, on a
dazzling white cloth.

"Has your mistress returned yet, my children?" asked the master.

"No, sar," said the older girl, with a giggle, twisting and grimacing
with embarrassment.

"My daughter," explained my host, "has gone to the town on an errand.
She will be back at any moment. Meanwhile, I shall introduce you to a
cooling drink of my own manufacture, with a basis of that cocoanut milk
which I need not ask you whether you