from the darkened weather horizon.

"Quick," said Suka, pointing to the rocks, "'tis bad to be smitten with
such rain as this. Let us rest in the _papa_ till the storm be over."

Following our all but naked guide, who sprang from stone to stone with
the surefootedness of a mountain goat, we soon reached the cluster of
rocks, the bases of which were embedded in the now hard and stiffened
sand, and almost at the same moment another heavy rain squall swept down
and blurred sea and sky and land alike.

Bidding us to follow, Suka began to clamber up the side of the highest
of the boulders, on the seaward face of which, he said, was a small
cave, used in the olden days as a sleeping place by fishermen and
sea-bird catchers. Suddenly, when half-way up, he stopped and turned to
us, and with a smile on his face, held up his hand and bade us listen.
Some one was singing.

"It is Susani," he whispered, "she did not sleep in the village last
night. She comes to this place sometimes to sing to the sea. Come, she
is not afraid of white men."

Grasping the thick masses of green vine called _At At_ which hung from
the summit of the rock, we at last reached the foot of the cave, and
looking up we saw seated at the entrance a young native girl of about
twelve years of age. Even though we were so near to her she seemed
utterly unconscious of our presence, and still sang in a low, soft voice
some island chant, the words of which were strange to both my companion
and myself although we were well acquainted with nearly all the
_Tokelauan_ dialects.

Very quietly we stood awaiting till she turned her face towards us,
but her eyes were bent seaward upon the driving sheets of rain, and the
tumbling surf which thrashed upon the shore.

"Wait," said Suka in a low voice; "she will see us soon. 'Tis best not
to disturb her. She is afflicted of God and seeth many things."

Her song ceased, and then Suka, stepping forward, touched her gently
upon the arm. She looked up and smiled into his face, and then she let
her full, dark eyes rest upon the strangers who stood behind, then again
she turned to Suka in mute, inquiring wonder.

He bent down and placed his cheek against hers, "Be not afraid, Susani;
they be good friends. And see, little one, sit thee further back within
the cave, for the driving rain beats in here at the mouth and thy feet
are wet and cold."

She rose without a word and stood whilst the kindly-hearted native
unrolled an o