I turned the words over in my mind as I watched them saunter
slowly toward me. Black Fernando's hell and the white waterfall were
places that I had never heard of. I thought of all the missionary hymns
that I had ever listened to afloat and ashore, but the lines that the
pair had chanted were not familiar.
The two walked on in silence for a few minutes after they had lifted up
their voices in the chant, then the Maori began to cross-question his
companion concerning the information he had just given him.
"How many paces?" he asked.
"Sixty," answered the Fijian.
"To the right, isn't it?"
"Yes, to the right," stammered the learner. "You fool nigger!" screamed
the instructor. "It is to the left, pig! Do you hear me? You must go to
the left from the white waterfall! Oh, you blinded fool! you make me
sick! Sing it now with me!"
The Fijian, who was apparently afraid of the bully, hurried to obey the
order, and I wondered as I listened.
"Sixty paces to the left," squeaked the Fijian.
"Sixty paces to the left," roared the Maori. "Now together!"
"That's the way to heaven,
That's the way to heaven,
That's the way to heaven out
Of----"
I was the cause of the interruption.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25