[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

92 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

and on both sides we saw stone slabs, set several
rows deep; presently we found ourselves under the
wide vault of one of those immense fig trees whose
branches are like trunks, and the glare of the sun
gave way to deep shadow, the heat of noonday to
soft coolness.

Gradually our eyes grow accustomed to the dim-
ness, and we distinguish our surroundings. We are
in a wide square, roofed by the long branches of the
giant tree. At our left is its trunk, mighty enough
in itself, but increased by the numerous air-roots that
stretch like cables from the crown to the earth,
covering the trunk entirely in some spots, or dangling
softly in the wind, ending in large tassels of smaller
roots. Lianas wind in distorted curves through the
branches, like giant snakes stiffened while fighting.
This square is one of the dancing—grounds of Vao.
The rows of stones surround the square on three
sides—two, three or more deep. Near the trunk of
the great tree is a big altar of large slabs of rock;
around it are stone tables of smaller size, and one
or two immense coral plates, which cover the
buried skull of some mighty chief. A large rock
lies in the middle of the road on a primitive slide
half covered by stones and earth. Long ago the
islanders tried to bring it up from the beach; a
strong vine served as a rope, and more than fifty
men must have helped to drag the heavy rock up
from the coast to the square. Half-way they got
tired of the job and left the stone where it lies now,
and will lie for ever.