Haleakala and Kilauea 



239 



he had come to this wilderness, married a native Hawaiian woman, 

 and engaged in cattle-raising. Now the eldest offspring of this 

 union, a husky son of the lariat, was in charge of the ranges. He in 

 turn had married a handsome Chinese-Hawaiian woman, who was 

 now the mother of a comely brood of boys and girls, in whom were 

 mingled in various proportions the strains of three races. The Ha- 

 waiian love of music and song, however, had not been altered in the 

 blend, for the plaintive strains of Hawaiian melodies accompanied 

 by ukuleles and guitars came floating up from huts among the guava 

 thickets until far into the night. A number of comely young girls of 

 mixed Hawaiian ancestry, evidently visitors, may have been the in- 

 spiration of the music. 



We were made welcome at the family table, and the food set be- 

 fore us was interesting. Lamb stew, rice, yams, ham, eggs, pancakes, 

 and honey formed the main part. Native coffee and tea were served 

 to the guests in cups, but the host and his family drank from large 

 shallow bowls. Inquiry brought out the fact that papayas, abundant 

 here, are not eaten by mixed Hawaiians, but are fed to the pigs. The 

 cooking was good, and mountain appetites did the rest. A guest-cot- 

 tage was prepared for our accommodation, and we soon were sleep- 

 ing off our fatigue in preparation for another day's journey. 



Wheeled vehicles seem to be unknown in the Kaupo region, for 

 there are no roads of any sort. All travel and intercommunication is 

 by horseback and muleback over bridle-paths that often are ex- 

 tremely picturesque. This is particularly true of the eight miles of 

 trail from Kaupo to Kipahulu, and since we had before us an un- 

 commonly long day's journey we decided to travel to Kipahulu on 

 muleback. In view of what the trail actually proved to be, it was a 

 satisfaction to find ourselves mounted on a very cautious and sure- 

 footed pair of mules. A handsome brown Adonis, scarcely more than 

 twelve years old and covered by an immense gaily corded lauhala 

 hat, was appointed our guide, and the gaze of many wistful dark 

 eyes followed us down the trail into the dewy morning. 



Of all the paths that ever were hung between the mountains and 

 the sea, surely few can boast a greater variety of wild natural beauty 

 than that which borders the trail to Kipahulu. This trail is carved 

 in sharp zigzags up and down the sides of steep-walled gorges of 

 great depth, clothed with most luxuriant tropical vegetation. There 

 was many a turn that tested the rider's confidence in his mount, for 



