There were orange trees in blossom, and coffee trees with masses of
sweet white flowers lying among their flaky branches like snow, and
the unfailing cocoa-nut rising out of banana groves, and clusters of
gardenia smothering the red hibiscus. Here Hananui adopted a
showman's air; he made me feel as if I were one of Barnum's
placarded monsters. I had nothing to do but sit on my horse and be
stared at. I felt that my bleached face was unpleasing, that my
eyes and hair were faded, and that I had a great deal to answer for
in the way of colour and attire. From the way in which he asked me
unintelligible questions, I gathered that the people were
catechizing him about me, and that he was romancing largely at my
expense. They brought me some bananas and cocoa-nut milk, which
were most refreshing.
Beyond the houses the valley became a jungle of Indian shot (Canna
indica), eight or nine feet high, guavas and ohias, with an
entangled undergrowth of ferns rather difficult to penetrate, and
soon Hananui, whose soul was hankering after the delights of
society, stopped, saying, "Lios (horses) no go." "We'll try," I
replied, and rode on first. He sat on his horse laughing
immoderately, and then followed me.
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