434 MYSTIC ISLES 



but animal life abounded. The hermits toddled about, 

 carrying their stolen shells, some as small as watch 

 charms, and the land-crabs fed on the purau and hibiscus- 

 leaves. They are the scavengers of the shore, eating 

 everything, and thus acting as conservators of health, 

 as do the lank pigs of the Philippines. They were 

 in myriads, rushing about seemingly without purpose, 

 and diving into tlieir holes beneath the palm-roots. 

 Their legs, unshelled, are as excellent food as the crabs 

 of the Atlantic. In the water a foot or two away moved 

 exquisite creatures, darting fish, and sailing craft — 

 Portuguese men-of-war, and other almost intangible 

 shapes of pearly hue. 



The village of Vaieri is opposite the pass of Tapuae- 

 raha. Far from the capital, and from the distractions 

 of tourists and bureaucracy, this tiny group of homes 

 along the beach was less touched by the altering hand of 

 the white than Mataiea, its setting and atmosphere af- 

 fectingly unspoiled. There was a mildness, a reticence, 

 a privacy surrounding the commune that bespoke a 

 gentle people, living to themselves. It was almost at 

 the end of the belt road, which virtually terminated at 

 Puforatiai. Gigantic precipices, high cliffs, and rugged 

 mountains forbade travel, and from a boat only could 

 one see the extreme southern end of Tahiti-nui Marea- 

 rea, Great Tahiti the Golden, as it was called by its 

 once proud race. 



Vaieri was environed by all the plants of this clime. 

 They ran along the road and embosomed the houses. 

 Guavas and oranges were tangled with bananas, roses, 

 reeds, papayas, and wild coffee. The blue duranta and 



