At first glimpse of us he hastily drew back and I heard the muttered sound of old-fashioned, New England cursing. Reassured by Baahaabaa, however, he slid down to join us, followed by his wife.
It was the first time I had ever really seen her and I must say that I was completely bowled over by the sight. Plainly not of the same social class as the beautiful women whom Baahaabaa had selected for us, she yet possessed an eerie charm of her own which instantly stirred strange emotions in my breast. I heard Swank gasp and Whinney's face was white and drawn, his favorite expression when deeply moved. She stood close to her husband, half-twined about him with the grace and strength of an eva-eva vine while her kindling eyes burned questioningly, her lithe body tense and protective. "He is to be christened," said Baahaabaa, with a magnificent gesture toward William Henry Thomas.
We could only look our astonishment.
"Yes," continued the chief, smiling benignly, "first among you all is he to have his name recorded in our ancient fashion."
As he pronounced these words Baahaabaa lifted his left foot solemnly and pointed to his own royal appellation tattooed on the sole. Our wives did likewise.
"What is his name?" Whinney asked.
William Henry Thomas's head rose proudly as his wife replied in thrilling, woodland tones, "Fatakahala."
"Fatakahala!" repeated Baahaabaa, "Flower of Darkness," and William Henry Thomas raised his head as high as it would go.
"When does the ceremony take place?" asked Whinney. Baahaabaa pointed to the distant peak of the mountain.
"Tonight. Maka, the Tattooer, is ready; the fishbones are sharpened; the juice of the tupa-berries fills the holy shell. We go."