Wild Life in Southern Seas. 
156 
fahaheke ? Ah, let but some of ye guide me 
out and set me before the surf—then will ye 
see.” 
Poor old fellow ! Like an old troop-horse 
who dozes in a held, and whose blood tingles 
to some distant bugle call, the ancient, from 
his little hut near by, had heard our cries, and 
his brave old heart had awakened to the call of 
lusty youth. And so, earnestly begging the 
loan of a board from one of the swimmers, he 
had come to join us. And then two merry- 
hearted girls, taking him to the water’s edge, 
swam out with him to the reef amid our wild 
cheers and laughter. They soon reached the 
starting-point, and then a roar of delight went 
up from us as we saw them place the ancient on 
his board, his knees to his chin, and his hands 
grasping the sides. Then, as a bursting roller 
thundered along and swept down upon them, 
they gave him a shove and sprang before it 
themselves—one on each side. And, old and 
half blind as he was, he came in like an arrow 
from the bow of a mighty archer, his scanty 
white locks trailing behind his poor old head 
like the frayed-out end of a manilla hawser, 
his face set, and his feeble old throat crowing 
