Imagine my surprise when told by the gentle princess Rōlâ-Bōlâ that they were simply the natural leaves from the various trees growing on the island, untouched by dye or stain of any kind.
They were so tough that my strength sufficed not to tear one in two.
Noticing my wide-opened eyes turned inquiringly upon her, the gentle Rōlâ-Bōlâ cried out with a soft, low gurgle:
“Go into the royal garden, Tôô-tôô-lō; that is, little ‘flute-man,’ and see for thyself.”
Now, for the first, I learned the secret of the presence of such beautiful trees and shrubs upon this storm-swept land. Every leaf was as thick and as strong as leather, and the trunks and boughs were exactly of the nature of India rubber, so that, with a small bit which I brought home with me in one of my pockets, I could erase pencil-marks with the greatest ease.
To such foliage as this a tornado had no terrors.
When the storm struck these trees they went to the ground, until it had spent its fury. In a few hours the tropical sun lifted them again, and the beauty of their foliage was quite unharmed.
To return to the poor princess Rōlâ-Bōlâ:
Bulger began to fret and worry beneath the strain of our captivity.
I was constantly on the alert for a chance to escape, but none offered. In fact, we were, I began to fear, prisoners for life.