“Very well,” said I, “I’ll have a look at Master Case’s place of worship myself, and we’ll see about the glorifying.”

At this Uma fell in a terrible taking; if I went in the high bush I should never return; none could go there but by the protection of Tiapolo.

“I’ll chance it on God’s,” said I.  “I’m a good sort of a fellow, Uma, as fellows go, and I guess God’ll con me through.”

She was silent for a while.  “I think,” said she, mighty solemn — and then, presently — “Victoreea, he big chief?”

“You bet!” said I.

“He like you too much?” she asked again.

I told her, with a grin, I believed the old lady was rather partial to me.

“All right,” said she.  “Victoreea he big chief, like you too much.  No can help you here in Falesa; no can do — too far off.  Maea he small chief — stop here.  Suppose he like you — make you all right.  All-e-same God and Tiapolo.  God he big chief — got too much work.  Tiapolo he small chief — he like too much make-see, work very hard.”

“I’ll have to hand you over to Mr. Tarleton,” said I.  “Your theology’s out of its bearings, Uma.”

However, we stuck to this business all the evening, and, with the stories she told me of the desert and its dangers, she came near frightening herself into a fit.  I don’t remember half a quarter of them, of course, for I paid little heed; but two come back to me kind of clear.

About six miles up the coast there is a sheltered cove they call Fanga-anaana — “the haven full of caves.”  I’ve seen it from the sea myself, as near as I could get my boys to venture in; and it’s a little strip of yellow sand.  Black cliffs overhang it, full of the black mouths of caves; great trees overhang the cliffs, and dangle-down lianas; and in one place, about the middle, a big brook pours over in a cascade.  Well, there was a boat going by here, with six young men of Falesa, “all very pretty,” Uma said, which was the loss of them.  It blew strong, there was a heavy head sea, and by the time they opened Fanga-anaana, and saw the white cascade and the shady beach, they were all tired and thirsty, and their water had run out.  One proposed to land and get a drink, and, being reckless fellows, they were all of the same mind except the youngest.  Lotu was his name; he was a very good young gentleman, and very wise; and he held out that they were crazy, telling them the place was given over to spirits and devils and the dead, and there were no living folk nearer than six miles the one way, and maybe twelve the other.  But they laughed at his words, and, being five to one, pulled in, beached the boat, and landed.  It was a wonderful pleasant place, Lotu said, and the water excellent.  They walked round the beach, but could see nowhere any way to mount the cliffs, which made them easier in their mind; and at last they sat down to make a meal on the food they had brought