And Something Did Happen

"

504 IMPROVEMENT ERA

succeeded in pushing its way up through the layer of solid rock, deposited some years before by an eruption of Mauna Loa. Here we refreshed ourselves by eating some whortle berries, picked from the roadside bushes, and drinking the contents of our soda water bottle. "I'm mighty thankful that it's lemon this time," my companion began, "do you remember that awful red strawberry flavor we got at the Japanese store yesterday? I'd rather die than drink that kind again, but warm lemon isn't half bad. The warmer it is, the less it tastes like anything. I remember — those fountains on the streets at home gee, I'm sorry I ever passed one by without taking a drink,— and my mother had an ice box on her back porch where you could always find — "Let's be going," I broke in, "we want to get there in time to arrange a meeting and find a place to sleep if possible. Besides, the less we think of ice boxes right now, the more contented we'll be. We'd better get something in mind to talk about tonight." The newness of missionary life was beginning to wear off for my companion, and we talked of things of more present interest to us than home comforts, as we made our way along the road. The particular section of trail over which we were then traveling, was a sort of dugway cut around the point of a small hill. On our right, the face of the hill rose perpendicularly from the road and was covered with small shrubs and ferns, while on the left, the lava with its grey moss covering, sloped gradually away toward the distant beach fringed with cocoanut palms. This extent of lava was of the a-a or rough variety, and the treacherous seams and cracks which had formed in it as it cooled, were only imperfectly hidden beneath the lantano bushes and small, low growing ferns. So rough, indeed, is this kind of lava that both man and beast know from experience that to leave the road is almost certain to mean disaster, in the shape of broken bones or cuts and bruises. We had involuntarily quickened our pace as we rounded this point, for from the other side of the hill, we expected to get our first glimpse of Kapoho. As we reached the narrowest point of the road, we heard the beat of horses' hoofs, and round the curve of the hill, just in front of us, a Hawaiian cowboy came galloping. His horse had evidently been hard-ridden, and both horse and rider were covered with sweat and dust. Upon seeing us, he let out a whoop of surprise and consternation, and with wild gesticulations and a volley of broken English, warned us to get off the road. We had no time, however, to remonstrate with him, or in fact, to collect our thoughts, before

AND SOMETHING DID HAPPEN 505

another horseman came dashing round this same curve, closely followed by a huge, red bull. He was one of those wild mountain fellows with sharp hoofs and terribly long horns, and had evidently been taken alive by these cowboys during a hunt. Mad with rage, he was trying to shake from his horns, the thin rawhide rope, by which he was secured to the saddle of his captor. We leaped for the side of the road just as his red eyes caught sight of us. With a bellow of rage from his frothing mouth, he lowered his head and made for us diagonally across the road. The horseman dashed past us in an effort to pull the creature by the place where we stood, and I, with no other thought in my mind than a wild determination to get out of the beast's path, left the road and, jumping from one jagged point to another, succeeded in reaching a small kukin tree, behind which I stationed myself. I turned, expecting to see my pursuer right behind me, but imagine my relief upon seeing him jerked violently from his feet and sent sprawling on the sharp points of lava at the road's edge. As he disappeared around a bend in the road between his two captors, I turned my thoughts to my companion, whose head I presently saw protruding from a pit into which he had fallen as he left the road. After extricating him and finding him unhurt, except for a few scratches, we fixed the rend in his trousers with a stick and prepared to resume our journey. "Boy! what if that rope had broken?" he said.

Winter's Song

Sing, Mr. Winter, Of fires warm and bright, Sing of the loved ones Sheltered from the night- Loved ones safely home again Dreaming of the light.

Sing, Mr. Winter, Let the chorus ring; The home lights are beaming, The ships of memYy bring Bales of summer ecstasy and dreams Of bursting Spring. Lethbridge, Canada Frank C. Steele