“I rayther guess,” he continued, as we began reloading, “that we’ve spoiled sport by firing at that ’ere tarnal hog. Them bullocks heard the racket, and are flinging their tails about now on the keen jump. Quick, Paul, and let’s climb that rock yonder, and see if so be there’s any in sight.” But none were to be seen, except at such a distance that they looked like ants. As evening was now at hand, my companion proposed our returning home forthwith; and then, after a sound night’s rest, starting in the morning upon a good day’s hunt with the whole force of the plantation. Following another pass in descending into the valley, we passed through some nobly wooded land on the face of the mountain. One variety of tree particularly attracted my attention. The dark mossy stem, over seventy feet high, was perfectly branchless for many feet above the ground, when it shot out in broad boughs laden with lustrous leaves of the deepest green. And all round the lower part of the trunk, thin, slab-like buttresses of bark, perfectly smooth, and radiating from a common centre, projected along the ground for at least two yards. From below, these natural props tapered upward until gradually blended with the trunk itself. There were signs of the wild cattle having sheltered themselves behind them. Zeke called this the canoe tree; as in old times it supplied the navies of the Kings of Tahiti. For canoe building, the woods is still used. Being extremely dense, and impervious to worms, it is very durable. Emerging from the forest, when half-way down the hillside, we came upon an open space, covered with ferns and grass, over which a few lonely trees were casting long shadows in the setting sun. Here, a piece of ground some hundred feet square, covered with weeds and brambles, and sounding hollow to the tread, was inclosed by a ruinous wall of stones. Tonoi said it was an almost forgotten burial-place, of great antiquity, where no one had been interred since the islanders had been Christians. Sealed up in dry, deep vaults, many a dead heathen was lying here. Curious to prove the old man’s statement, I was anxious to get a peep at the catacombs; but hermetically overgrown with vegetation as they were, no aperture was visible. Before gaining the level of the valley, we passed by the site of a village, near a watercourse, long since deserted. There was nothing but stone walls, and rude dismantled foundations of houses, constructed of the same material. Large trees and brushwood were growing rankly among them. I asked Tonoi how long it was since anyone had lived here. “Me, tammaree (boy)—plenty kannaker (men) Martair,” he replied. “Now, only poor pehe kannaka (fishermen) left—me born here.” Going down the valley, vegetation of every kind presented a different aspect from that of the high land.