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As I drifted downstream I perceived suddenly, seated among the buttressed roots of an old tree, a young girl lovely as a water-sprite. I must have made some slight splashing sound, for she turned her head with a little start and gazed full into my eyes. I recognized her at once—she was Tehani, whom I had seen in Tetiaroa long before. She gave no sign of shyness or embarrassment, for a girl of her position had in those days nothing to fear by day or by night, alone or in company. A rude word to her would have been the cause of instant death to the offender; an act of violence to her person might easily have brought on a devastating war. This sense of security imparted to the girls of Tehani’s class an innocent assurance of manner which was by no means the least of their charms.

“May you live!” I said, Indian fashion, rounding-to against the current.

“And you!” replied Tehani, with a smile. “I know who you are! You are Byam, the taio of Hitihiti!”

“True,” said I, eager to prolong the conversation. “Shall I tell you who you are? You are Tehani, Poino’s relative! I saw you in Tetiaroa, when you danced there.”