OF THE SOUTH SEAS 831 



were drawn taut and smooth. These are hnpasses for 

 the wily climbers. 



"lis ne passeront pas" said the French ; ''Aita haere!" 

 the Tahitians. 



The road was good, but narrow, in few places room 

 for two to pass except by turning out, skirting the beach 

 at the water's-edge, crossing causeways over inlets, and 

 in admirable curves clinging to the hillsides, which 

 bathed in the sea. JNIoving over a small levee we came 

 to the pointe de Maraa, where was the Grotto of Maraa, 

 a gigantic recess worn in the solid wall of rock, a dark 

 mysterious interior, which gave me a momentary surge 

 of my childhood dread and love of caves and secret en- 

 trances to pirates' lairs. The diligence halted at the re- 

 quest of M. Brault, and he and I jumped out and ran to 

 the grotto. In it was a lake with black waters, and 

 down the face of the cliff, which rose hundreds of feet 

 straight, dripped a million drops of the waters of the 

 hills, so that the ground about was in puddles. The in- 

 side walls and arched ceiling were covered with a solid 

 texture of verdant foliage, wet and fragrant. We 

 found a little canoe fastened to a stone, and adventured 

 on the quiet surface of the pond until at about eighty 

 yards of penetration we came to a blind curtain of stone. 



"This grot," said M. Brault, "was for centuries the 

 retreat of those conquered in war, sacred to gods, and a 

 sanctuary never violated, like those cities of refuge 

 among the Hebrews and Greeks. Now it is a picnic 

 rendezvous, very dear to Papeete whites and to tourists. 

 C'est la vie." 



Tahitian women passengers were adorning their heads 



