OF THE SOUTH SEAS 509 



men threw split trunks of banana-trees on the stones. 

 A dense column of white smoke arose, and its acrid odor 

 closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, 

 my friends of our village were placing the prepared car- 

 casses of pigs on the banana-trunks, with yams, fz'-roots 

 and taro. All these were covered with hibiscus and 

 breadfruit leaves and the earth of the rampart, which 

 was heaped on to retain the heat, and steam the meat 

 and vegetables. 



I examined the feet and legs of Raiere and the two 

 girls I had come with, and even the delicate hairs of 

 their calves had not been singed by their fiery prom- 

 enade. 



Meanwhile all disposed themselves at ease. The 

 solemnity of the Umuti fell from them. Accordions, 

 mouth-organs, and jews'-harps began to play, and frag- 

 ments of chants and liimenes to sound. Laughter and 

 banter filled the forest as they squatted or lay down to 

 wait for the feast. I did not stay. The Umuti had 

 put me out of humor for fun and food. I lit my flam- 

 beau and plodded through the ma^^-wood in a brown 

 study, in my ears the fading strains of the arearea, and 

 in my brain a feeling of oneness with the eerie presences 

 of the silent wilderness. I was with Meshack, Shad- 

 rach, and Abednego in their glorious trial in Nebuchad- 

 nezzar's barbaric court. I was among the tepees of the 

 Red Indians of North America when they leaped un- 

 scathed through the roaring blaze of the sacred fire, and 

 trod the burning stones and embers in their dances be- 

 fore the Great Spirit. 



The Umuti was not all new to me. Long ago, when 

 I lived in Hawaii, Papa Ita had come there from Tahiti. 



