23G MYSTIC ISLES 



you the story," she said in my ear. We passed the 

 rough fort, broken-down and mossy, and moving care- 

 fully along the trail, clambering over rocks and tearing 

 away twigs and broad leaves, we reached a dismantled 

 and crumbling chalet. 



We sat down upon its steps, and I removed my 

 coat and was naked to my pareu in the afternoon 

 zephyr. 



"That fort," said the princess, "was built by the 

 French in the forties, when they were stealing my coun- 

 try. From it they could command the gorge of Fau- 

 taua and that and other vallej'^s. This place was the last 

 stronghold of the Tahitian warriors before the enemy 

 overcame them, and erected the ramparts and the fort. 

 The last man to die fell by the river basin. The band 

 of heroes would have held out longer, but were betrayed 

 by a Tahitian. He led the French troops by night and 

 by secret paths to a hill overlooking them, so that they 

 were shot down from above. The traitor lived to wear 

 the red ribbon of the Legion of Honor and to spend 

 pleasantly the gold the French Government gave him. 

 C'est la vie/' 



We cast our eyes over the scene. There was a forest 

 of wild ginger, ferns, and dracsena all about. Thou- 

 sands of roses perfumed the air, and other flowers and 

 strawberries, and feis, green or ripe-red, wondrous 

 clusters of fruit, awaited man's culling. The stream 

 purled about worn rocks, and we came to two gloomy 

 pools, black from the reflection of their bowls, the water 

 bubbling and surging from springs beneath. It was 

 deliciously cold, and we drank it from leaf cups. 



"How about the time the French came here with the 



