Afa,
on the grass by the water, there were two girls smoking and humming,
and waiting for the cowboy and the prize-fighter who lived beside me,
and who were dancing to-night at Fa'a. Like Indians, these Tahitians,
especially the women, would sit and watch and wait for hours on hours,
and make no complaint, if only their dear one--dear mayhap for only
a night--came at last.

I was awakened from happy sleep by the cries of a frightened woman,
confused with outlandish, savage sounds. I lit my lamp and leaned
over the balcony. Under a flamboyant-tree was a girl defending herself
from the attack of Vava. She was screaming in terror, and the Dummy,
a giant in strength, was holding her and grunting his bestial laugh. I
threw the rays full in his face, and he looked up, saw me, and ran
away up the beach, yelping like a frustrated beast. In voice and
action he resembled an animal more than any human I had ever seen. The
guilelessness and cunning of child and fiend were in his dumb soul.

Chapter XII

The princess suggests a walk to the falls of Fautaua, where Loti went
with Rarahu--We start in the morning--The suburbs of Papeete--The Pool
of Loti--The birds, trees and plants--A swim in a pool--Arrival at
the cascade--Luncheon and a siesta--We climb the height--The princess
tells of Tahitian women--The Fashoda fright.

The falls of Fautaua, famed in Tahitian legend, are exquisite in
beauty and surrounding, and so near Papeete that I walked to them
and back in a day. Yet hardly any one goes there. For those who have
visited them they remain a shrine of loveliness, wondrous in form and
unsurpassed in color. Before the genius of Tahiti was smothered in the
black and white of modernism, the falls and the valley in which they
are, were the haunt of lovers who sought seclusion for their pledgings.

A princess accompanied me to them. She was not a daughter of a king
or queen, but she was near to royalty, and herself as aristocratic in
carriage and manner as was Oberea, who loved Captain Cook. I danced
with her at a dinner given by a consul, and when I spoke to her of
Loti's visit to Fautaua with Rarahu, she said in French:

"Why do you not go there yourself with a Rarahu! Loti is old and an
admiral, and writes now of Egypt and Turkey and places soiled by crowds
of people, but Rarahu is still here and young. Shall I find you her?"

I looked at her and boldly said:

"I am a stranger in your island, as was Loti when he met Rar