We were all wearing the native costume and Swank, I remember, caught his _rigolo_ on a coral branch and delayed us five minutes. But we were soon on the inner beach laughing over the incident while Babai made repairs. The path up the mountain led through a paradise of tropical wonders. On this trip Whinney was easily the star, his scientific knowledge enabling him to point out countless marvels which we might not otherwise have seen. As he talked I made rapid notes. "Look," he said, holding up an exquisite rose-colored reptile. "The _tritulus annularis_ or pink garter snake! Almost unheard of in the tropics." Kippy insisted on tying it around her shapely limb. Then, of course, Babai must have one, too, and great were our exertions before we bagged an additional pair for our loved ones. Thus sporting on our way, crowned with _alova_ and girdled with _tontoni_ (a gorgeous type of flannel-mouthed snapdragon which kept all manner of insects at bay), we wound toward the summit, stopping ever and anon to admire the cliffs of mother-of-pearl, sheer pages of colorful history thrown up long ago by some primeval illness of mother earth. Swank was so intoxicated by it all that I made almost the only break of our island experience. "You've been drinking," I accused. "You lie," he answered hotly, "it's these colors! Wow-wow! Osky-wow-wow! Skinny wow-wow Illinois!" "Oh, shut up!" I remonstrated, when I saw Tilaana advancing toward me, fluttering her _taa-taa_ in the same menacing way in which Kippy had attacked the _wak-wak_. "I beg your pardon," I said. "I was wrong. I apologize." We stood in a circle and chinned each other until peace was restored. The view from the summit was, as authors say, indescribable. Nevertheless I shall describe it, or rather I shall quote Whinney who at this moment reached his highest point. We were then about three thousand feet above sea-level. I wish I could give his address as it was delivered, in Filbertese, but I fear that my readers would skip, a form of literary exercise which I detest. Try for a moment to hold the picture; our little group standing on the very crest of the mountain as if about to sing the final chorus of the Creation to an audience of islands. Far-flung they stretched, these jeweled confections, while below, almost at our very feet, we could see the Kawa and Triplett, a tiny speck, frantically waving his yard-arm! Even at three thousand feet he gave me a chill.... But let Whinney speak. "It is plain," he said, "that the basalt monadnock on which we stand is a carboniferous upthrust of metamorphosed schists, shales and conglomerate, probably Mesozoic or at least early Silurian." At this point our wives burst into laughter. In fact, their attitude throughout was trying but Whinney bravely proceeded.