These so-called chiefs were rather more intelligent than the average. Most of them had worked for whites at one time, and learned to speak pidgin-English; but they were as superstitious as anyone else, and certainly greater rogues. They were naked and dirty, but some had retained some traces of civilization, one, for instance, always took off his old felt hat very politely, and made quite a civilized bow; he must have been in Nouméa in former days.
There was no leprosy or elephantiasis here, but a great deal of tuberculosis, and very few children, and nearly all the men complained that their women were unwilling to have any more children.
From the next village I had a glimpse of the wild mountains of western Santo. I decided to spend the night here, left the boys behind, and went southward with the moli and a few natives. This was evidently the region where the volcanic and coral formations meet, for the character of the landscape suddenly changed, and instead of flat plateaux we found a wild, irregular country, with lofty hills and deep, narrow gullies. Walking became dangerous, though the path was fair. On top of a hill I found an apparently abandoned village, from which I could overlook all central Santo. To the west were the rugged, dark-looking mountains round Santo Peak, with white clouds floating on the summit, and a confusion of deep blue valleys and steep peaks; northward lay the wild Jordan valley, and far away I could distinguish the silver mirror of Big Bay. All around us rose the silent, stern, lonely forest--imposing, unapproachable.
On our way back to camp we rested beside a fresh creek which gaily squeezed its way through rocks and rich vegetation. A little tea and a tin of sardines were all the menu, but we enjoyed a delightful bath in the cool water, and had as good a wash as we could without soap. It was a great luxury after the hot days in the coral country without any water. While our things were drying in the bright sun, we lay in the moss near the rushing stream, and it was like a summer day at home in the mountains. The water sounded familiar, the soft, cool breeze was the same, and while I lay watching the white clouds through the bright foliage I dreamt of home. At home I had dreamt of travel, and thus one wish follows the other and the soul is preserved from lazy content. I almost fancied I heard the sound of bells and the far-away lowing of cattle. And again the reality seemed like a dream when I roused myself and saw the dark figures crouching on the rocks, with their frizzy mops of hair and their Sniders on their knees.