rket of the next morning. He was burdened with more than
a hundred pounds of fruit, which he carried balanced on a pole over
his shoulder, and with this he was to go seven or eight miles from
their place of growth. He was a pillar of strength, handsome, glowing
with effort, clad in a gorgeous pareu of red, and as we went by him,
he smiled and said, "Ia ora na! I hea! Vaimato?" Greeting! Where have
you been? The waterfall?"

"E, hitahita. Yes, we are hurrying back," the princess called
vivaciously.

"Those are our real men, not the Papeete dolts," she said. "If we
had time, we would catch shrimp in the river. I love to do that."

When we came to where the habitations began and the road became
passable for vehicles, Noanoa Tiare sat down on a stone. She put on her
pale-blue silk stockings and her shoes, and asked me for the package
she had given me at starting. She unfolded it, and it was an aahu,
a gown, for which she exchanged, behind a banana-plant, her soiled
and drenched tunic. The new one was of the finest silk, diaphanous,
and thus to be worn only at night. The sun was down, and the lagoon
a purple lake when we were again at the bust of Bougainville.

I thanked her at parting.

"Noanoa Tiare," I said, "this day has a heavenly blue page in my
record. It has made Tahiti a different island for me."

"Maru, mon ami, you are sympathetic to my race. We shall be dear
friends. I will send you the note to Tetuanui, the chief of Mataiea,
to-morrow. Au revoir and happy dreams."

Chapter XIII

The beach-combers of Papeete--The consuls tell their troubles--A bogus
lord--The American boot-blacks--The cowboy in the hospital--Ormsby,
the supercargo--The death of Tahia--The Christchurch Kid--The Nature
men--Ivan Stroganoff's desire for a new gland.

I played badminton some afternoons at the British consulate. The old
wooden bungalow, with broad verandas, stood in a small garden a dozen
yards from the lagoon, where the Broom Road narrowed as it left the
business portion of Papeete and began its round of the island. There
was just room enough on the salt grass for the shuttlecock to fall
out of bounds, and for the battledores to swing free of the branches
of the trees. The consul, though he wore a monocle, was without the
pretense of officialdom except to other officials and, of course,
at receptions, dinners, and formal gatherings. After the games, with
tea on the veranda, I heard many stories of island life, of offic