66 Concerning South Sea Islands iv 



her that I see one every day — an immense brown 

 creature, nearly as big as an ox, floating about just 

 under the surface of the water. It is wonderfully 

 pretty to watch the chetadons playing in the small 

 streams which run into this desolate haven. One of 

 them will take some little bit of stuff into his long 

 snout and blow it out again through the water as a 

 sort of challenge, then another will dash up and do 

 likewise, then half-a-dozen more will join in, and 

 soon they are at it all round, flashing about like 

 living gems, really just as though they were playing 

 some kind of game. I have watched thousands of 

 them, but I have never seen one shoot anything out 

 of the water — I believe that fly-shooting is a myth. 

 At low tide the mud in the mouths of these rivers 

 presents a most curious appearance. Imagine a bed 

 of early dwarf tulips, without leaves, all in active 

 motion, appearing and disappearing in the most un- 

 accountable manner, and then you will have a dreamy 

 idea of a colony of calling-crabs, each one, apparently, 

 leading off three rousing cheers with his one big claw, 

 and picking something off its mandibles with his 

 little one. On your approach he subsides into his 

 hole, and if you follow him up with a piece of stick, 

 you may or may not drive him out at the other end 

 of his burrow, but, at any rate, out of one or the 

 other hole there is sure to bolt a fish, something like 

 a loach, running on two pairs of tiny compasses fixed 

 under his chin, who will not only scud deftly over 

 the mud, but, in his terror or artfulness, will often 



